The Pressure of Cheating Death
by igottagetbacktohogwarts
Summary: AU set on the campaign trail for the Presidential election. Olivia comes clean about Defiance to Fitz before it happens. Mellie, Cyrus and Big Jerry all have their opinions and are determined to voice them, and everyone has some big decisions to make. The big question is: can Fitz still take the election without Defiance, his Father's political capital and the "perfect" marriage?
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: ****Contains heavy infidelity in the beginning as per usual.**

**AN: ****I've always wondered how the story would have gone if Liv had made a different choice vis a vis rigging the election, so I decided to write it. I will be using some canon events within the story, but reworking them slightly to fit this timeline. I'm cross posting this to archiveofourown as backtohogwarts.**

* * *

_With a rope around my neck_  
_I can feel the pressure of cheating death_  
_I am facing the giants_  
_Planning to silence the nations_

_Great is the power of violence_  
_But greater is the power of defiance_

_**"Defiance" - Righteous Vendetta**_

* * *

"I'm not going to say yes." Olivia says defiantly whilst still pitching her voice low, because regardless of how much this whole idea makes her want to scream, she doesn't want to start any rumours that could be damaging to Fitz's political career.

"Just… think about it, okay?" Mellie says, fixing an ice cold smile onto her face that's tinged with an emotion Olivia can't place, "We both want this for him right? For him to really make something of himself? Be someone?"

_He__** is**__ someone_, she wants to say, but she doesn't. As is becoming increasingly common in her interactions with Mellie, she bites her tongue.

"I have thought about it." She admits finally, "But I will never change my mind. He wants a clean campaign and what you're all suggesting is about as far from that as it's possible to get."

"I know, I know. But _he_ doesn't have to. It would be… we'd be doing it for him, Olivia." Mellie implores her.

Olivia knows Fitz would, and someday will, make an amazing President of the United States. He will lead the country and the armed forces with the firm, no nonsense hand that they need, whilst nurturing them with the kindness and compassion they deserve.

However.

There is a very real possibility that they might not be able to push this through this time around. She found the chink in his armour, the openness and honesty that Fitz wasn't showing the voters, just too late, and Olivia isn't sure there's a way to fix it this late in the game.

Except, according to Mellie and Cyrus and Verna and Hollis, there _is_ a way to fix it - at any stage in the game, simply by literally fixing it.

She sucks in a deep breath and she knows that Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III will make one of the greatest Presidents this country has ever seen.

* * *

Fitz is sitting up in bed, _Olivia's_ bed in her hotel room, the sheets pulled up over his hips but his chest is bare, watching while she takes off her make up and gets ready for bed in her pajamas; off-white silk bottoms and a black camisole. He can't really stay the night, not the whole night, but it's nice to pretend, even just for a little while.

"It's going to be one of the closest races in history." He says to her, "Or so they keep telling me. I'm not sure whether it's supposed to be a compliment or not."

She pauses as she takes off her mascara; to him she looks frozen as if with fear as she seems to almost stare herself down in the mirror. _But that can't be right_, he thinks to himself, _Liv doesn't do fear and she sure as Hell doesn't freeze up when she's anxious. Liv is a fixer. Liv __**thrives**__ on working things out._

"Liv?" He says hesitantly, "Livvie, what's wrong?"

She opens her mouth like she wants to reply, but struggles over the words for a minute. She shakes her head over a mouthful of empty air and then, with her voice quiet and almost sad, says, "There's a town in Ohio. It … it's called Defiance. It has a population of 4,539 people and. It's like… if there was such a thing as a swing …_town_… kind of? Defiance would be one. Within the swing state of Ohio, Defiance is one of the towns you need to win."

"To win Ohio or to win the election?" Fitz asks, watching her carefully. She still has not resumed taking off her make up.

"From this point forward you should assume that the answer to that question is always 'both'." She replies, dropping her gaze from her own eyes to her hands and taking a deep breath.

Something has her so wound up that she can't even look herself or him in the eye. He swings his legs out of bed and pulls on his previously discarded boxers and crosses the room to her side.

"What is it? What's got you so wound up?" He asks her gently, moving closer so he can put his arms around her.

"Don't." The word trips from her lips like it cost her something to say it as she takes a sideways step out of his reach. Which, isn't that just a metaphor for their entire relationship? No matter how close they seem to get, they're always one step out of reach.

He stops where he is, feeling very suddenly like he's on the outside of something that he wants very much to know about. Whatever it is it's tearing her apart and he doesn't like to see her like that. Whatever it is, if she tells him, he can help. He'll try his best to help.

"They… they want to rig Defiance."

The words are so quiet that he almost asks her to repeat herself, and it takes a second for the words to sink in, and when it does, there are so many things wrong with that sentence that he's honestly a little unsure about where to start.

He stumbles over the start of several different sentences, aborting them all before asking, "Who _exactly_ is 'they'?"

Olivia swallows, "You're not going to like it." She warns him.

"I don't like that anyone in my own campaign thinks I'm incapable of winning this without cheating. I don't like that you knew about this and haven't told me until now, which means something's obviously happened. We're past the point of what I will or won't like." He tells her bluntly, and it only serves to strengthen her resolve here.

"It was Hollis's idea." She admits, "He started it. Apparently he 'knows a guy', whatever that means."

"Who else?" He asks, staring a hole into the side of her face as she watches him in the mirror.

"In order?" She replies, "Cyrus, Mellie, Verna."

"What?" He breathes, looking crestfallen, "Mellie and Cyrus?"

She nods, biting the inside of her lip. "Cyrus and I were talking about bringing your Father on board, and Hollis suggested that we, and I quote, 'stack the deck'."

"And now you're thinking it might not be a bad idea." He says acidically, turning away so she can't see the hurt on his face.

"No. No, I've been telling them 'no' all along." She insists immediately, reaching out to grab his arm and pull him back around to face her, "And that hasn't changed."

"But?" He asks, staring her down, locking all his muscles for fear that he crumble to dust where he stands.

"If there's any chance you could lose Defiance…"

"I should, what? Let them do it?" He asks, much too dark to really be called sarcastic.

The look she gives him is enough to tell him that no, that's not what she was going to say at all. He pauses and tries to think it over.

"You think Hollis and Mellie and the others are going to go ahead with this with or without you because they know you can't say anything without incriminating yourself for not reporting it and doing irreparable damage to my career." He guesses eventually, and she nods, with so much guilt in her eyes that he has to look away for a second to regroup.

"The deal they were all talking about means that no one can walk away, or they'll all lose everything."

Off his questioning look she continues, "When you win Cyrus becomes your White House Chief of Staff, Verna becomes a Supreme Court Justice the next time a seat on the bench opens up, and Mellie becomes the First Lady she was born to be." The last part is just a fraction more distasteful than Olivia's usual style, but the words slip out without her intention.

"What does Hollis get?"

Olivia ruefully huffs out a short laugh, though there's no humour in it, "Hollis gets what he wants. His horse wins the race."

He's silent for a minute, trying to let all that information sink in. "Why do you look so guilty if you were so sure about saying no?"

Her eyes flutter closed and she tips her head back, biting her lip as she rolls her head to the side before she opens her eyes again. "I look guilty because I feel guilty." She replies, shaking her head, "I should have told you about it when they first started talking about it but I didn't think that they were actually serious, I mean, I know that we've all done some grey-area things for this campaign but… but _rigging a national election_? That is **_not_** what I signed up for."

She looks as crushed as he feels and the next words out of her mouth wrong foot him so fast it makes his head spin.

"I look guilty because today I realised that I'd do it if you asked me to. And… and I hate that. I hate knowing that about myself."

He's half way to shaking her with the sheer terror of it; "Liv, I would never- you can't, you have to _promise me-_"

"I won't, I won't." Liv swears painfully, tipping forwards and pressing her face into the crook of his neck and grasping at his arms, "I swear to God I won't." It's halfway between a broken sob and a painful moan and he pulls her closer still, one arm cradling her body against his, the other knotted in her hair as he tips his head down and buries his face against her neck.

"I know I can't ask you, especially not now but stay, Fitz. Just tonight, stay, _please_."

In the year that he has known her, and the few months that they've been doing … whatever this is … he's never heard her plead for something. He's heard her demand what she wants from the people working for her, he's heard her command respect from the people who think she works for them, he's heard her beg him to tip her off the cliff when he's holding her at the edge and a thousand times over he's heard her say that it is often easier to ask for someone's forgiveness for something than it is to ask them for permission, but he's never, not once, heard her _plead_.

It disarms him, how fast he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere, Livvie. I'm here, sweet baby, I'm right here.", whilst trying not to think about what the future could hold for him now.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks to those of you who left reviews on the first chapter, it was so nice to wake up to! This update was ready to go last night but I had some technical difficulties with the website, I hear I'm not the only one, so sorry about that. I hope you like it. :)**

* * *

The next day everything is different, almost as if the sun had shifted in the night and thrown all the shadows into the light. He questions everything, every last damn word that comes out of Cyrus and Mellie's mouths, because he has never been so blind in his whole life - and now that he can see what's really going on around here he wonders how he ever missed it; the occasional glances between the two of them, the carefully perfect calm that they both exude whenever Hollis Doyle's name comes up, or their absolute confidence in their campaign plans for the state of Ohio, even when they hear plausible concerns from other people - people obviously not in the know about their little plan - on the campaign staff.

It was right in front of him the whole damn time and he missed it because he put his trust in the wrong people.

It's been a very long time since he experienced the sensation of feeling like he could trust just one person in the world - last time it happened his mother had just died, and he'd just caught his father hooking up with mistress number thirty-something's college co-ed daughter at her funeral, and the arms he'd fallen into belonged to Mellie.

"You're not like him, Fitz." She'd murmured to him then as she lay curled up at his side, "You're going to do great things for the world, I just know it."

It's funny how things can change.

"Are you alright?" Cyrus asks when he's zoned out on the third consecutive conversation that morning.

Fitz knows he should be paying more attention to what they're saying and planning, now more than ever, but he feels like an outsider looking in - like there's a sheet of glass between him and two of the people he thought he could trust over and above anyone else in the world.

"I- yeah." Fitz replies, looking up at his so-called friend and plastering a fake smile on his face, "I'm just gonna- I'll be right back. I just need a minute." He tells no one in particular as he stands from his seat and leaves the room. Missing the vaguely concerned look the two share behind his back as he goes.

* * *

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_I need you._

**_Liv:_**

_Now? Things are quiet over here, someone might see me leave._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Please, Liv. I just need one minute._

* * *

She lets the door to his fancy suite fall closed behind herself and she slowly walks further into the room; her steps tentative like she's afraid it's a trap and Mellie is about to come around the corner holding his phone and wearing a knowing expression. Her heart rate picks up just a little as she starts to seriously consider the possibility - oh god, she shouldn't have snuck off to meet him in the middle of the day, it's a recipe for disaster-

"Liv? Is that you?" Fitz calls from the other room, and she almost sighs out loud in palpable relief, and steps through the door from the living room area into the bedroom. He's standing across the room from her, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling full length window and looking down on the bustling city below them. To be honest after all of the cities they've visited on the trail, they've all started to blur together, as if the continental US is just one sprawling metropolis with no forests or deserts or suburbs in between.

"It's me." She confirms softly, walking over to stand right by his side. She can see how tense he is, so she wraps her arms around his waist from the side, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face for a heartbeat as his arms settle around her too. Every time they do this, spend time alone and don't discuss politics, or they spend time alone in a hotel room and don't have sex, or they reach out for each other when one would normally reach for a serious lover, her fingers scrabble with the cliff edge of plausible deniability, and she inches closer to sliding down the slippery slope to admitting there's more than sex with a professional, friendly emotional attachment waiting at the bottom.

"Rough day, huh." She guesses quietly, and in the window his ghostly reflection attempts a half smile that disappears as fast as it shows up, like he's run out of steam for putting on his game face.

"It's barely past lunch. I've got hours of listening to them yet." He replies, dreading it already. For them; for Mellie and Cyrus and Verna and Hollis that is, nothing's changed. Same shit, different day. But for him? Everything's changed, everything, and now he feels out of sync with all of them except the beautiful woman in his arms right now.

He thinks back to the days before they gave into their attraction to one another, to feeling himself slowly but surely falling for a woman who isn't, and may well never be, his wife. He remembers wishing the feeling would either burn up or float away, but it never happened. Every time she said something perfectly on point, made a smart remark about the media, cracked a joke about the opposition, wore one of the campaign T-shirts, asked him how his kids were doing, shared a knowing glance with him across a crowded room, tried to suppress a giggle after he's made a witty comment, every time she did anything like that, he could sense his feelings deepening, intensifying, until he'd woken up one morning with that terrifying goddamn sentence circling around in his head.

_What kind of a coward was I to marry Mellie and not wait to meet Olivia?_

He'd always believed in - and for the record, anyone he's ever admitted this to has either laughed in his face or rolled their eyes like he's some dumb fucking silver spoon romantic - but he's _always_ believed in the idea of soul mates, in the concepts of true love and "the one". So how, exactly, did he end up allowing his Father to convince him to settle for anything less?

_And when, exactly,_ a traitorous voice in the back of his mind asks him, _did Livvie become one of the most important parts of my life? On par with my children, my dreams of the White House, my slowly flickering and fading memories of Mom?_

"Let's run away." He tells her softly, conspiratorially, like they're teenagers escaping their small town to be together and live a life of love and excitement in the big city. He says it like it's possible, like the whole problem would go away if they could.

"You know we can't do that." She replies, just as quietly as she tries valiantly not to imagine road tripping with him through the California desert, or the rolling pastures of Texas or the mountains of Colorado, no destination in mind, just driving around together to see where they'd end up. She tips her head back to look him in the eye properly, rather than just his reflection and admits, "But for what it's worth? Sometimes I wish we could."

That does coax a smile out of him, a soft, fragile thing yes, but it's better than the empty expression he'd been wearing when she walked in.

He leans down slowly, to press a kiss to her lips, and she leans up and meets him halfway.

* * *

"So the stylist pulled some options for my Good Housekeeping interview-photoshoot combo - thanks for that by the way -" she adds sarcastically before continuing, "and Olivia thinks I should wear the purple Donna Karan dress but I want to wear the red YSL one- with the ruffles at the waist? Show some loyalty to the party colours. Which do you think, Fitz?" Mellie asks, holding up the two dresses by their hangers on either side of her body and waiting impatiently for his reply.

"You never ask for my opinion about your clothes." He points out blankly without looking up as he makes notes in his jotter for an upcoming speech. They're alone in one of tonight's hotel's smaller conference rooms, everyone else on the campaign having either gone to bed or chosen to continue working from the comfort of their own room.

"Well I'm asking now, Fitz. You won't talk to me about your day and you won't talk to me about the election and you won't talk to me about the children-"

"You sent them to boarding school, Mellie! They're just little children! I wanted them here, with us and you sent them away." He snaps back at the automatically. It's still a sore spot between them, even months after the decision was made.

"_We_ enrolled them in one of the most prestigious prepatory boarding schools California has to offer. I'm trying to give them all the chances we had." Mellie argues, knowing she shouldn't have even mentioned the children if she didn't want to fight with him.

"I don't want them growing up thinking that everyone grows up that way. I don't want two shiny, perfect, robot children who believe that doing your chores means hiring a handyman and giving back means writing a check to a charity for the tax deduction!" He fires back, "I'm not denying that they're receiving a good education, but there are other ways to educate children that also teach them the truth about the ways of the world at the same time."

"Other ways?" Mellie replies, scrunching up her nose delicately, and carefully laying the dresses out on the table in front of her like she's only half paying attention, "Like what? _Public school_? Fitz, please, be serious."

"Because it would do them so much harm to see what the world is really like?" He argues incredulously, tinged almost desperately with something on the edge of his voice, just out of her reach, that she's finding utterly frustrating, "I don't want them growing up around people like us! People like us aren't _good_ influences!"

"We've had this same argument probably hundreds of times now," Mellie says, then, in that infuriatingly fluttery passive-aggressive-super-polite voice that drives him utterly insane she asks, "What is the matter with you tonight, Fitzgerald?"

"I know about Defiance!" He roars, "I know everything, what- how could you _do that_ to me?" He asks angrily, entirely non-rhetorically. "I trusted you, all of you, and I thought you believed in me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Mellie answers immediately, just like he knew she would. She straightens up and faces him head on. They've never had any trouble looking each other in the eye while not seeing eye to eye, metaphorically speaking.

"Don't play dumb with me! You know exactly what I'm talking about and you are far too intelligent to pretend otherwise." The words are technically a compliment, but he spits them like venom and though she tries not to flinch, they burn just a little.

"We do believe in you, Fitz." Mellie implores him, "Defiance was just a precaution-"

"No! Rigging a national election is not a fucking precaution!" He shouts, before remembering where they are and dramatically lowering his voice, "Rigging a national election is a crime against the justice system and the laws of morality and the _one thing_ I have insisted on since this all started is a clean campaign. The _one thing!_ If you want the White House so badly, you run."

He's burned through all his fire and brimstone for the moment a whole hell of a lot faster than he expected, and now he just feels… bereft. Untethered. He opens his mouth in search of more words, but finds none at all. Just a blank, empty space where his anger had been burning so brightly just moments before. He shakes his head and turns on his heel, heading for the door.

"Fitz, wait, Fitz, please-" She jerks forwards, as if to run after him, but he snatches his arm out of her grasp the second she gets close.

The only reply she gets is the slamming of the door between them as he walks away.

* * *

**AN: Not to ruin the ~serious mood or anything, but every time I read that last line whilst I was proof reading, I was mentally like _*Olive Penderghast voice* Ooh, burn!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So there's a line in this chapter, said by Mellie, which will not make sense. To any of you at all. I would be super curious to see if any of you catch it/what you think it means, but be warned, it's gonna be a while before I explain it heh. Also, to JFJD, who was concerned that Fitz has tipped his hand… wait and see honey, wait and see… ;)**

* * *

It's the middle of the night, almost three o'clock in the morning, when Olivia's phone rings, skittering across the bedside table and lighting up the darkness in her room. She answers it without checking the caller ID and sits up, forcing the sleep from her eyes.

"Olivia Pope." She says, trying not to yawn around the words.

There's a pause and then- "Do you know where my husband is?"

"…Mellie?" She asks, pulling the phone away from her ear to check the screen. Sure enough; _Mellie Grant_'s name stares back at her almost mockingly and her heart skips a beat or two - does she… does she _know?_ "It's two fifty five AM, isn't he with you?" She asks, fighting to keep her voice even.

"If he was with me do you think I'd be calling you at this hour?" She asks waspishly before clearing her throat and reigning it in, "I already called Cyrus but he doesn't know where he is either. Has he called you, left you a message or anything?"

"Why would he?" Olivia asks, trying to mask the guilt in her voice, "I'm sure he's fine wherever he is."

"No, Miss. Pope, he's not _fine,_" Mellie hisses back, "He knows about- _what we were discussing_."

Olivia's eyes slide shut. Oh, god. He must have hashed it out with her and then left in the middle of the night or something. She knows it's probably something they should have discussed - how to move forwards following her revelation to him, but they were both so caught up in the moment that the coming days and weeks didn't seem to register as anything other than abstract concepts.

"I- oh. H-how did he react?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Olivia." There's a pause before Mellie continues, less harshly now, almost under her breath but faster like she's talking more to herself than to Olivia, "I'm still trying to figure out exactly _how_ he came to know about it. You didn't say anything, did you?"

"No, of course not." She replies, grateful that both her voice and her lie hold steady.

"I didn't think so. God, it was probably Hollis or something. A way to misguidedly encourage him, maybe? I don't know but rest assured, I _will_ get to the bottom of this. Call me if he contacts you."

There's another pause, then a click, then she's gone.

Jesus.

The light from her phone cuts out and she's left sitting in the darkness, alone with her thoughts. Where would he go?

If he's not with his wife, and he's not with Cyrus, and he's not with her, and he's not in the hotel bar because someone could see him and no matter how bad things are right now he knows that being seen in a bar at three AM on a Wednesday would be looked down upon by voters and raise questions with the press, where else is he? Where else _could_ he be?

She swings her legs out of bed and goes to her suitcase, dragging on a pair of jeans and a thick cream cable knit sweater, knowing that she'll go and find him the second she figures it out.

* * *

**_Olivia:_**

_Mellie just called me._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Sorry. I wanted to come and see you but I just needed a second by myself._

**_Olivia:_**

_I can understand that. Do you need more time alone?_

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_I don't know._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_I thought I did._

* * *

"Fitz knows we tried to rig Defiance." Mellie says bluntly, advancing on Cyrus with wide eyes and sure steps, "What about that is not sending you into a tail spinning panic?"

"Mellie-"

"We have no possible way to predict his next move! Fitz is steady and predictable until he's not - when he loses something, or he feels like he's lost something, it's like he goes on a kamikaze mission to run away from it so he doesn't have to deal with it. When he found out about _Chloe_ he left home and went to Harvard, when his Mom got sick, he joined the Navy. When his Mother died, he signed up for Black O-"

"LOWER YOUR GODDAMN VOICE, MILLICENT!" Cyrus hollers at her, and her mouth snaps closed.

"I shouldn't have to remind you, Mellie, we are in a _hotel_. As in, lots of rooms, lots of guests, lots of potential whistle blowers waiting around every corner to upset this apple cart. So, again, I say, _calm yourself down_."

When she'd called him fifteen minutes ago to say that she and Fitz had had a falling out bad enough that he'd walked out of the room hours ago and still not returned, he'd known immediately what they must have fought about.

What he hadn't quite predicted was the appearance of Mellie Grant in his hotel room at a quarter past three in the morning. He has to be up in two hours. Of all the things he needs in life, this is absolutely not one of them.

"Fitz's unpredictability right now is really not that unpredictable. He's going to rage and storm and stamp his little foot, and then we will grovel and apologise and tell him how very, very wrong our plan was, and how very, very sorry we are, and he will pretend he believes us because he needs us to win this election, and the only thing Fitz wants more than he wants you to let him bring the kids home, is to be the President. So he's a cannonball right now, but we know which buttons to press to diffuse him. We've done it before, and we'll doubtless do it again."

Mellie takes a deep breath, and stands up to her full height.

"You may well be right." She replies icily, with nothing but steel in her spine, "But don't you dare talk to me like I'm some dumb little trophy wife who needs you to hold my hand through this. You know Fitz very well, I'm not denying that, but he's my husband, Cyrus. Believe me when I tell you, we are all on _very_ shaky ground right now."

The door closes behind her, and he sighs, almost smiling. You've got to admire her if nothing else.

* * *

As it turns out, Fitz is nothing but relieved to see Olivia when she steps onto the campaign bus and pulls the door shut behind herself, shivering just a little in her jeans and sweater, her shoulders scrunched up so she can tuck her face into the thick red circle scarf she's wearing around her neck.

"Who's your lawyer?" He asks, apropos of nothing.

"My lawyer?" She asks curiously as she walks slowly up the aisle towards him where he's sitting in the same spot where she first realised she was falling for him, "I thought you were with that Everett and Saylor firm?" She recalls a meeting they'd had where his lawyers had been present to discuss the legal side of his run for the White House.

"I am." He replies, still staring out the window, "But I share my lawyers with Mellie, and I don't want her to know I'm… exploring my options just yet."

She slowly sits down next to him, unsure of what to say next, surprised he's jumped to this conclusion, of all things, so quickly.

"Are you?" She asks, looking at him and watching for his reaction, "…exploring your options?"

He sighs heavily. "I don't know. Maybe. Yes... I don't- I don't know."

"If you divorce her-" She starts, hesitant to drop the D-word, but he finishes her sentence before she can.

"I can almost certainly kiss my chances in this election goodbye. I know that."

"What do you think your kids would say?" She asks, not trying to antagonise him, or challenge the idea, just genuinely curious. She's never actually met them; they'd been sent away to boarding school whilst Fitz was still just the Governor of California, before he'd announced his candidacy for President, and he's reticent to talk about them in much detail - it seems to hurt him to think about them for reasons she's not quite figured out yet.

"I don't know. It depends on what we tell them I suppose." He sounds sad, really sad, for the first time at the mention of his children.

"They're going to want to know why." Olivia agrees, trying not to wonder if she'll meet them at some point down the road - because _that_ is the slippery slope to a whole other dimension of fucked up. How would that conversation even go? _Hey, kids, welcome home from school. Your Mom is out shopping so I thought I'd introduce you to my secret girlfriend?_

"There's roughly twenty million other people who are also going to want to know why. And it's not like I can just casually accuse her of conspiring to commit a felony." He says frustratedly, wishing (not for the first time) that he wasn't a Grant, that he wasn't anyone but John Smith, and no one gave a damn about (or judged his ability to do his job on) the finer details of his personal life.

Olivia suppresses a laugh, "I'm pretty sure that falls outside the category of 'irreconcilable differences' for a no fault divorce."

"It's going to end up getting dragged through the courts, isn't it?" He sighs rhetorically, "My children are going to go through the ringer because Mellie and I got married too young and hung on too long on the off chance we might at least _like_ each other again at some stage, and because our father's had made a deal that the two of us were going to run the White House someday."

Olivia pauses, holding herself stiffly so that no part of her is touching any part of him.

"Fitz…" He hears the conflict and guilt in her voice and turns to look at her with concern, "If she finds out… about _us_… she could take everything from you. She could ask for full physical custody of your kids and the courts would probably fall on her side because she's their mother."

"The only reason she'd ask for custody is to hurt me. And, Liv, I know this isn't what you signed up for. I understand if you want to back out, you know? I wouldn't hold it against you." He's not entirely sure why he's saying it. No, he wouldn't hold it against her, it's a lot and things are getting heavy fast, but he wouldn't be okay with watching her walk away, with just letting her go like they weren't meant to be together.

God, he's so fucking gone on her.

"I should be running for the hills." She tells him with a sad smile, leaning back against the seat and rolling her head against the cushion until she's looking at him again.

"You should." He agrees as she kicks off her grey toms and pulls her legs up underneath herself on the seat, leaning over to rest her head on his chest as he puts his arms around her, anchoring her to him.

"I won't." She says quietly, so quietly he holds his breath to catch what she says next, "…I _can't_."

He tilts his head and presses a kiss into her hair.

"Okay then." He replies, just as quiet. It sounds very final to both of them. They can't say the words they want to say, not yet. There's too much shaky ground, too much which could still destroy them.

But when you know someone well enough, you don't need to hear them say something to know what they're trying to tell you.

What matters is that they're here and they're both staying. They're in this together.


	4. Chapter 4

******AN: To the reviewers who were all excited about Fitz winning the election on his own, have patience, I totally have a plan… :)**

* * *

Mellie has been wracking her brain all night - since she couldn't sleep, she figured she may as well try to utilise the time for something useful.

She knows she's right about Fitz - he is, to use Cyrus' point, a cannonball right now. He's a damn problem too, because they don't know which direction he's aiming his ire in. She knows that she and Cyrus are going to take the brunt of it - they're his wife and long time friend, respectively, and he's going to get completely stuck on this whole 'they didn't believe in me' thing.

Verna is replaceable - there are plenty of other people around with her access and a jet who would be only to keen to take her place. Hollis Doyle is almost as replaceable - the campaign would miss the money he's throwing at them, but he's not the only loaded Republican around. It wouldn't be a total loss. Olivia and Cyrus, the package deal that they are, are almost as essential to the campaign as the candidate himself - Fitz, no matter what he may think, cannot get himself elected without their help - if he turns on them, fires them, they're going to have one hell of a problem on their hands - in fact, they'll be dead in the water.

Lastly, she comes to herself. She's the key to his image, she knows, but Fitz is not his father. If he reached his limit - and this situation she knows may well be the catalyst for that - he might try divorcing her, fighting for the kids because he thinks it's the right thing to do, rather than stay because doing anything else could have a negative effect on his PR.

She's counting on his ambition and near crippling daddy issues to fall far enough in her favor that he'll be… persuadable on the matter. She's pretty sure he won't try leaving her, not this close to getting everything he's ever wanted, but she also knows she can't get complacent. She bites the inside of her cheek, knowing what she has to do, and fires off a quick text to one of the few people she knows would do anything for her.

**_Mellie: _**

_I need your help._

**_Private:_**

_Are you in trouble?_

**_Mellie:_**

_I'm not sure yet. I need you to send me a fairly old file - it's from almost twenty years ago._

She hears the door open and close, and she looks up from her phone to see Fitz walk through the door for the first time since he'd stormed out of the conference room yesterday.

"Where were you?" She asks, locking her phone and setting it down on the desk behind herself, knowing she'll have to wait until the argument she knows is coming is over to finish her conversation.

"Out." He replies, throwing his jacket onto the bed.

"Out where?" She pushes, feeling a familiar sensation of irritation directed at the man before her creeping up her spine.

"Don't worry, _honey_, nowhere that would compromise our public image," He answers coldly, "I know how you feel about that."

"Fitz, for the last time, I- _We_ were trying to _help_ you!" She argues in frustration, throwing her hands in the air, not able to understand why he doesn't see that.

"You were trying to _win_." He counters. "And no, not 'for the last time'. You do not get to be angry that I'm acting like you owe me an explanation for this. Because newsflash, Mellie: you do."

"_Owe you_- I have explained-"

"Excuses are not explanations!" He explodes, and they both stare at each other from opposite sides of the bed, completely unable to cross the gulf that currently sits between them. "I'm going to take a shower," He mutters eventually, "We have a breakfast meeting with Cyrus and Liv in half an hour."

* * *

Harrison is still technically on probation, so though she knows he's a damn good lawyer and it's her instinct to offer his services to Fitz, she can't. Instead she calls Steven, who, though is just as good of a lawyer as Harrison, he's _not_ on probation - so he's twice as busy.

"I need you to do me a favour without asking too many questions." She says instead of 'hello' or 'how are you' when he picks up.

"And by 'too many' I assume you mean 'any at all'." Steven replies drily in the worn in English accent she's always loved so much.

"I might be bringing someone to see you in the near future." She tells him as she paces back and forth across the room, voice pitched low on purpose. These days you never know who could be listening in.

"I'm assuming you mean lawyer-me. Off book?" He asks, knowing not to ask her for details over the phone.

"Yes. And initially, I think so. He's… well, you'll know him when you see him." Olivia says cagily, tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she stops pacing and holds up an off white pantsuit and a gray one, trying to decide which one to wear for tomorrow night's town hall debate.

"Okay… just so I know, is this criminal or personal?" He's pretty sure she'll answer this, but he also knows that if the answer is anything close to a grey area, she probably won't risk discussing it on an open line.

She hesitates, catching sight of herself in the mirror on the back of the closet door, and she hears the words _Divorce_ and _Defiance_ roll through her head, followed closely by _Accessory _and _Adultery._

"Personal." She eventually decides on before admitting, "It is possible that things might… spill over,"

For a moment she imagines her face, all their faces, splashed across the front page of the Washington Herald and the New York Times, her name and all their names spilling acidically from the lips of Kimberly Mitchell and Anderson Cooper accompanied by vicious, shocking headlines and words like _attempted election rigging_ and _felony_ and _betrayal of the American people_ and _jail time_ and she swallows forcefully. "But I'm hoping it won't come to that."

"If I know you, and I like to think that I do, it won't." Stephen tells her confidently, and she nods, even though she knows he can't see her.

"I have to go, I'll call you again in the next couple days so we can talk details." She tells him, catching sight of the time on the alarm clock by the bed. She needs to meet Fitz, Cyrus and Mellie in Cyrus' hotel room for a breakfast meeting in fifteen minutes.

"Okay, Liv. Talk soon."

She hangs up the phone and throws it onto the bed, deciding on the gray suit for the debate, wondering all the while how exactly they're going to get out of this one.

* * *

Olivia is alone in one of the hotel of the week's conference rooms, watching back the footage from the last speech Fitz had made at a campaign stop two days before whilst making notes in a jotter.

The door opens and Fitz pokes his head into the room, stepping inside entirely and closing the door behind himself when he realises she's alone. She picks up the TV remote and presses pause, setting it back down and trying not to smile as she watches him lean up against the door. He's wearing light coloured chino trousers, a white shirt open at the collar and a dark green v-neck sweater, and he looks good. Really good.

She's somewhat distracted from her reverie by the memory of the world's most awkward breakfast meeting that had taken place a couple of hours ago, and she opens her mouth to say as much, but he starts talking first.

"I think… I think I need to drop out." His hesitant but sure words startle her from her train of thought completely.

"What?" Liv asks blankly, like she's sure she hasn't heard right.

"Of the race." He clarifies. "I just… I feel like half the time I can't tell who I can trust and, it's like I said last night, I need to figure out what my options are - I mean, even if I win this now, how am I going to be able to trust that I won it on my own, and not because they tampered with the voting booths?" Fitz asks, still looking crushed by the news.

"Fitz…"

"I need to drop out of the race, I need to ask Mellie for a divorce and I need to pull my children out of that damn ivory-tower school she sent them to. I need to sort my goddamn life out and I can't do it all and run a successful presidential campaign at the same time." He says bluntly, and she sucks in a deep breath, swallowing forcefully.

"Okay." She nods, putting her pen down.

"Okay?" He asks incredulously, now feeling like he's the one who hasn't heard right.

"Okay." She offers no further comment, and her reaction - or lack thereof - leaves him feeling slightly lost for words.

"Wow. I thought I'd have to work harder than that to convince you." He tells her, still utterly shocked. She stands up, so that they're closer to being at eye level with one another.

"Look… I'd love for you to stay in this race and win it in spite of everything that's happened but…" she looks up at him through her eyelashes, hesitating, "But it's like I told you at that fiasco of a town hall debate rehearsal… you spent so much time saying and doing and being what you thought everyone else wanted, that to think you'd taken control of everything only to have it stolen from you again… maybe now is a good time to walk away rather than push it through and try to do everything at once… and risk losing. Sort things out with Mellie and the kids and then, hey, who's to say you can't run again next go around?"

He stares at her for long enough that she starts to feel like she must have said something wrong. Before she can apologise or ask what she said, he walks slowly to her side and raises one hand to cup her cheek and asks, "Have I told you lately that I think you are completely _amazing_?"

She smiles and shrugs just a little, "Well, it's not like a girl can hear that too often…"

His grin matches hers and he leans down to kiss her on the lips.

"And hey, maybe next time I run…" He trails off, eyes searching her face. He doesn't have to finish his sentence in order for her to know how it ends.

"Maybe." She agrees softly, allowing them both this moment of hope and happiness and nodding as he leans down to kiss her again.

* * *

The next day he sets up the speech with the help of Olivia and Callum - an up and coming intern volunteering for the campaign who's so eager to get on the Governor's good side that asking him to help organise a secret press conference was a challenge he was only too keen to arise to.

Liv will be sorry enough to see him go that she's actually trying to figure out if there's a way to keep the kid around once the campaign ends this evening… if the cameras go live and he hasn't sold them out to anyone - even in their own campaign, she might have to put some serious thought into it.

So she decides to test him.

"This stays between you and me, you got that?" She asks, quiet but firm.

"Of course." Callum nods immediately.

"Cal, when I say, 'you and me' I mean that. Once this conversation is over, the Governor, you and I are going to be the only three people in the world who know why we're calling this press conference. Cyrus and Mellie and all of the other staff are in the dark about this, so if this gets out we'll know it was you. _Do you understand?_" She asks again, staring him down and daring him to lie to her.

The kid looks freaked out, but he holds his own she'll give him that. "Yes."

"As of this evening, Senator Langston will be the new Republican ticket to back."

The poor thing looks like she's just told him that not only is Santa a hoax, but so is the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny, too.

"What- why?" He asks in complete shock.

"There have been some… complications… behind the scenes. That's all you need to know for right now, okay?" She explains carefully, watching his reaction like a hawk.

"O-okay." He says, nodding slowly.

"That's all, Callum." She tells him as a dismissal, and as he's leaving, Fitz walks into the doorway of her make shift office in the campaign headquarters.

The two men pause beside each other, the Governor looking at the intern questioningly.

"I just wanted to say, Sir, it's been an honour to work for your campaign." Callum says, looking ever so slightly shocked when Fitz offers his hand to shake.

"Thank you for all your hard work, Callum."

The poor kid looks like he's going to faint when he realises that the Governor knows his name, but he nods and leaves the room like he's all in a hurry.

"What was that about?" Fitz asks, closing the door behind himself.

"I decided to test him... see if it's worth trying to find a way to keep him around when all of this is over." She tells him as she looks up from the files in her hands on the press attending the speech tonight and notices that he's shut the door, "Open the door, Fitz, people will talk."

"Whatever would they talk about?" He asks slyly, crossing the room to her side.

"Behave, Governor Grant." She says sternly as he kneels down in front of her behind her desk anyway, running his hands up and down her legs, "I mean it, in less than ten hours you're dropping out of the presidential race and the scrutiny you'll be under by tomorrow as to why exactly you're doing that, makes the way things are now look _easy_."

"That won't last forever though." He points out, wrapping his hands around the backs of her knees and pulling her forwards in her chair.

"No," She agrees, "It won't. But _this_," she gestures between the two of them, "Is exactly the kind of thing that people will use as a scapegoat reason in the absence of any other."

He sighs and lets his head rest against her knee for a moment. "I know. I know. I just." He stops talking and leans back, standing up slowly, "I know."

He takes a step back and shakes his head like he's clearing the thoughts out of it, and it's a damn good job he does, because Mellie chooses that moment to walk through the door. Her face is set in a dark frown which is replaced by a look of surprise when she sees Fitz.

"Fitz, what are you doing in here?" She asks with a fake smile and ice cold eyes.

"Liv and I were just talking." He replies, holding her gaze for a moment before he turns to Olivia and says, "Thank you for your help today. I'll drop my speech off in the next couple of hours and you can fix it for me."

"That's what I do." She replies evenly, and they share a brief smile before he leaves without sparing his wife a glance.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Ooh I do so love reading your reviews, and how your guesses change each time I upload a chapter, it makes me all smiley (which I know is probably super lame or whatever but I can't help it! haha)**

**Also, I know that in the States your elections are 2008/2012, but based on the timings of the show, I think they're running on a 2010/2014 timetable, so that's what I'm going with here.**

* * *

The cameras will flash, the reporters will shout and yell their questions, and they will all fall silent when he opens his mouth to speak.

_I have called this press conference today because I have an announcement to make_, he will say, _and as hard as it will be to say, I'm not one to beat around the bush, so I'll cut to the chase. It is with sorrow and regret that I must announce the withdrawal of my candidacy from the 2010 Presidential Election. It has been an honour to get this far, and my thanks and apologies go out to the Republican Party, the supporters and the voters of the American people and my family, and everyone who has had a hand in getting me this far._

_I know many of you will be wondering why I'm doing this, when I'm so close to achieving the dream of a lifetime and sitting in the Oval Office as Commander in Chief. The only truthful answer I can give you at this time is that it has come to my attention recently that my family, my children in particular, are being harmed instead of helped by my life in Politics. As much as it would truly be an honour to serve as your President, my family must come first._

_I would like to extend specific thanks to my wife, for helping me to come to this decision, to my children for their unending patience and love, and to my campaign managers and close friends, Cyrus Beene and Olivia Pope for their ongoing support at this difficult time._

_I'm not retiring from politics. One day in the future, I hope to run again, but as I said, right now my family needs me more than my country does, and my children will always be my number one priority._

The cameras will flash brighter, and he will turn and walk back into the campaign building, ignoring the questions thrown at his back like knives and bullets.

He will close the door, and the sound will muffle and it will all be over.

A life time of work, gone in an instant.

He's been picturing it in his head on an endless loop since the breakfast meeting yesterday, which was mostly filled with awkward silences which Cyrus and Olivia attempted to power through by talking about the campaign - whilst carefully avoiding the subject of Ohio and their subsequent campaign plans for the state - and he'd been trying to think of a way to tell Olivia that he didn't want to do this anymore the whole time. Finally, he'd been watching CNN in his hotel room, and seen a clip of Reston making a speech to an enraptured crowd, and it had been the final straw.

He'd gone to her, not to Cyrus or to his wife, but to her, and told her the truth. He'd been expecting her to fight him on it, and had been gearing up for an argument that had never come. Instead, though he knows that deep down she was a little disappointed, she'd let him say what he needed to say, and let him make the choice for himself. Winning this election could be a huge boost for her career, and she'd not said a word about how him dropping out would affect her. It almost makes him feel guilty about quitting, but he's trying not to examine the why's and wherefore's of those emotions too closely.

"I wish I didn't have to do this." Fitz admits quietly, shaking his head and not realising he was planning to say anything until the words are already out of his mouth. He's leaning against the wood panelling of the elevator, his hands in his pockets and his eyes downcast. It's only a couple of hours since he'd told Olivia he would drop off his speech later and left her office, and all the possible variations of it have been circling around in his head like insects he lacks the conviction to dispense with.

"You don't." Olivia replies, turning to face him, "If-"

"_Liv_." He reprimands softly, lifting his gaze to meet hers, "I can't do it. It- it won't work out."

Olivia narrows her eyes at him, taking in the slumped posture of his body and the tired, almost innocent, childlike quality to his voice, and she swallows, thinking. He looks like a dog who's been kicked one too many times, and that's the thought which sticks in her head.

She takes a deep breath and turns to the elevator control panel to her left, and pulls the emergency stop button. He jerks in surprise as the elevator car stops suddenly.

"Liv?" He says her name slowly and she hesitates, gathering her thoughts before turning to face him head on.

"Why are you really doing this?" She asks, and he wants desperately to break her gaze, but he finds he can't look away.

"You know why- I told you why." He tells her, but it sounds weak even to his own ears.

"You did. And your reasons were good ones. The kind of reasons the public would accept - that you're having family problems that you're choosing to put ahead of your political career. It makes you look like a real person before a politician. It's… If this is what you have to do, it's making the best of bad news and it's exactly what they'll all want to hear." She tells him, defiantly refusing to look anywhere but right in his eyes.

He feels his mask slipping and drags it back up by the skin of his teeth, fighting for a handle on the one last thing he's supposed to be able to control - his own emotions.

"Are you dropping out of the race because you want to take a step back and fix everything, and then run again in four years when everything has settled down or are you dropping out because those reasons are there and a convenient cover for the fact that you no longer believe you have what it takes to win this race because of what I told you the other night?" She asks him directly, and he clenches his teeth together to keep from- he doesn't know what. He just knows that nothing good can come from him opening his mouth and letting go right now.

Any rebuttal he might have had for this moment has long since died in his throat, and he blinks rapidly. It's enough that he can look away from her for a moment. He lets his eye line fall to his shoes and he swallows forcefully.

"Livvie-" He whispers but stops in case his voice cracks. This whole situation is bad enough without him having a fucking meltdown in the goddamn elevator.

She steps into his personal space in an instant, one hand settling on his arm and the other on the side of his neck, her thumb brushing over his jaw, "If you still want this, we can still do it." She tells him insistently.

"It doesn't matter-" He starts, but she cuts him off.

"It _does_ matter." She says fiercely.

"It doesn't!" He argues, "I cannot go out there and pretend to be happy and in love with her and I definitely cannot trust anyone in the world other than you and my children and that's who I'm prioritising here."

She tries not to let her shock show on her face that he would put her in the same category as them, and he obviously catches her surprise before she can cover it because his face softens a fraction, "You must know how I feel about you, Livvie." He says softly, taking his hands out of his trouser pockets and sliding them around her waist to pull her closer.

She's quiet for a moment, taking in what he's saying and thinking as fast as she can.

"If you still want to be the President, we can make it happen." She tells him with fierce determination, "We don't need them. I'm the _best_ at what I do and you are a brilliant politician and you deserve to be President because of that, not because of your name, and not because it was handed to you on a silver platter. Do you want this?" She asks him seriously, and he flashes back to that day when they'd argued after the town hall debate prep debacle, when she'd yelled at him for, essentially, acting like a brat, and she'd asked him, over and over, _Do you want this?_

"Yes." He admits finally, "I want to be- I want it. But-"

"Fitz-" she starts warningly, but he interrupts her and continues anyway.

"_But_, it doesn't matter. No one's going to vote for me when they hear that I'm divorcing my wife of twenty years - who, by the way, will fight me to the death and drag my name through the mud and yours too when she finds out about us." He tells her, imploring her to understand.

"Fitz-" she starts again, sighing.

"No, Liv. If you really think we can do this… I'm in. But the divorce is non-negotiable, whether I'm running or not. I was standing in the shower this morning and it just hit me that the only reason left for me not to ask her for a divorce is how it would look to the voters - and running for President or not, that's not a good enough reason to stay married to someone - and before you start getting stressed and feeling guilty, being with you openly is going to be a fantastic bonus, but I'm not just leaving her for you, okay? This has been brewing for the last few years, at least, before we ever even met." He pauses and smiles down at her, "You might have given me the courage to go through with it though." He admits, picturing the kid in a candy store feeling that had taken over him that morning before the talk show, when she'd stolen the tie of that poor intern and, for the first time, she'd properly flirted back with him, like they weren't surrounded by people and journalists.

She doesn't say anything or look away, just fixes him with a thoughtful gaze, like she's searching for something in his face. She's nothing if not a highly logical person. He's laid it all out there for her, now he needs to let her think it all over.

She bites her lip and reaches behind herself. He hears the click of the emergency stop button being pushed back into place, and they start whirring upwards once again. She still doesn't speak or look away, and honestly, it's starting to make him nervous.

He _did_ just put it all out there, didn't he? Jesus. She's probably suddenly realising what she's gotten herself into and is figuring out the best way to break it to him that she didn't sign up for all of this shit, and sure, they make each other laugh and the sex is fantastic, but-

He's jerked out of his reverie when she steps away as the lift stops and the doors slide smoothly open. The corridor ahead of them is empty and quiet, and she takes his hand and leads him down the corridor. He lets her knot their fingers together as they walk, and neither of them talk as she takes out her hotel room key and lets them both into the room.

She puts the _Do Not Disturb_ hanger on the outside handle before closing and locking the door.

They're still holding hands, and she slowly turns to face him. Her expression is somewhere between hopeful and afraid, but there's something so distinctly unguarded about it that he's almost… comforted by it? Either way, it quiets his racing mind and calms him down somewhat.

"I really think you can do this." She says, breaking the silence.

"Even when I'm going through the election and a divorce and most likely a custody battle at the same time?" He asks, before mentally reminding himself that he's not supposed to be trying to talk her out of it anymore, even if the urge remains.

"Yes." She tells him emphatically.

"You're not going to fall back on their plan are you?" He asks, going for playful and missing it by a mile and a half.

Her lips twitch, like she's trying to suppress a smile and instead of replying with a serious statement about how that's their only option at this point, or by insisting that he's better than that, she tells him, "Stephen Finch."

He narrows his eyes at her for a second and says, "Wha- Who?"

"He's a Lawyer. He's _my_ lawyer." She tells him, "We've been friends for years and I spoke to him this morning and told him I'd call him later today to discuss more about what you were looking for from him."

"You're-"

"I'm on board if you are." She confirms, "It's going to be one hell of a feat to pull off - and even if we can really pull this out of the bag you know your approval ratings are going to go glacial for _at least_ the next couple of weeks."

"I know," He tells her, a smile lurking at the edges of his mouth as he takes in what she's saying.

"And there's a press conference happening in six hours that is currently unnecessary-"

"I know," He repeats, the smile creeping a little brighter.

"And Mellie _is_ going to drag you through the mud, the courts and the tabloids-"

"_Liv._" He laughs, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her, "_I know_."

He leans down and kisses her on the lips before pulling away and smiling, "I know that things are about to get seriously messy but right now I don't care because we're in this together and we're _going_ to figure it out. Everything's going to blow up in our faces soon enough, can't we just be happy for one minute?"

She can't help but smile back, his happiness infectious, before he kisses her again, mumbling, "Or twenty." against her lips, and starting to walk her backwards across the room in the general direction of the bed.

She goes a long with it for a moment, until he turns them around and falls onto the mattress, pulling her down against his chest without breaking their kiss and she pulls back and says, "We don't have twenty minutes, we need to figure this out!"

"Oh, we have twenty minutes." He tells her with a smirk as he rolls them over and reaches for the button on her jeans.

* * *

The voice on the other end of the line is familiar, comforting, and Mellie is glad she called, even if she wishes she didn't have to.

"I was surprised to get your text - what exactly are you planning to do with whatever we find on him?" He asks her curiously, and she unconsciously plays with the airplane seatbelt across her lap.

"I'm not sure yet. But Fitzgerald is nothing if not familiar with the concept of keeping secrets - he learnt from the best after all." Mellie points out, crossing one leg over the other and examining her nails.

"You think his Father is going to be a problem with the election?" Her Uncle asks, and she can hear the calculation in his voice.

"No. I think what Fitz thinks and feels about his Father are going to be a problem for _me_." Mellie replies, and she can see the flight attendant signalling to her that they're going to be taking off soon so she needs to hang up, "I have an appearance on _Live! With Regis and Kelly_ tomorrow morning so I'll be in New York for tonight and tomorrow, I'll stop by your office after the interview and we can talk more about this."

"Okay, sweetheart. Have a safe trip." He tells her and she obliges the flight attendant and switches off her phone.

She sighs and stares out of the window, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. She knows the Grant family had her thoroughly vetted when they first started dating - and she hadn't minded at the time because a) she was squeaky clean and she knew it, her family saw to that, and b) because her family had done the exact same thing to Fitz. She'd been thrilled, they all had, when it turned out that the guy was basically a boy scout - she could only hope that wasn't the case this time.

She doesn't want to destroy him - she wants him to, if not forgive her, accept her apology at least, and she wants to be the First Lady of the United States - but she needs to know that if he tries to take her down for her part in the Defiance scheme, she can take him down right along with her.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I mention a few ages in this chapter that are a little off from canon - according to the where we're at on the show, Gerry and Karen are about 15 and 13 respectively, meaning that during the campaign they would have been about 11 and 9 - I've made them a little younger than that here because it fit the story, but it also got me thinking - if Fitz turned 50 in mid season 2, he would have been around 46 during the campaign. I think Olivia looks around 28-ish in the flashbacks, so that's what I'm going with here. Also; ****_Time to play spot the canon… ;)_**

* * *

"So, are you going to tell me anything else about this mystery client of yours?" Stephen asks, his voice glazed with sarcasm even over the phone.

"Kind of." She replies, cagey as always, "This is still an open line, so I'm still going to be-"

"Cryptic as hell, I know." He interrupts, a hairs breadth from complaining, but knowing it's best for all of them, legally and in the long run, to keep this… light.

"I was going to say 'careful'." She tells him, tapping her pen against her legal pad, leaving a trail of little black dots on the page. Fitz finds himself vaguely amused by the small habit - he's never noticed it before.

"So. What are we looking at here?" Stephen says, returning to his professional self.

"A high profile divorce." She tells him, "Likely a custody battle, and almost definitely tabloid and network interest."

_Almost__ definitely? _He writes on her legal pad, fixing her with a sardonic expression. She rolls her eyes before Stephen asks in a bored voice, "Are we representing the sweet, harried wife or the lying, cheating husband?"

Olivia and Fitz exchange a glance.

"The sweet, harried … cheating husband?" She offers, and Fitz presses his face against her shoulder to muffle his laughter.

"…Oh-kay…" Stephen replies slowly, knowing there's a story there that he definitely knows better than to enquire about. "How bad exactly are we thinking the custody issue is going to be?"

"Definitely not simple." Olivia replies as Fitz stops laughing as quickly as he started.

"Abuse?" Stephen asks calmly.

"Never!" Fitz interjects in shock without being able to stop himself, "I would _never_-"

"Hey." Olivia says quickly, mindful of the fact that they're on an open line and if he talks for long enough anyone listening in might recognise his voice, "He didn't mean anything by it, he just needs all the facts."

There's a pause, before Stephen drily says, "I take it that was the 'sweet, harried, cheating husband'…"

The pair of them exchange a glance that says _is this a good idea_, but eventually Fitz just replies, "Yes."

"Is the girl going to be a problem?" Stephen asks, and Fitz furrows his brow, "Or the guy, whatever, I don't judge."

"What- are you talking about?" He asks, and Liv writes _"cheating"_ in air quotes on the pad in front of her.

"Oh." He answers hesitantly, "The girl- woman, she's uh. No. There's no problem."

"It was an extra-marital affair, and you are, according to Olivia, about to go through a high profile divorce. The girl is always a problem." Stephen tells him, like he was waiting to catch out the dumb rich guy.

Liv and Fitz glance back at each other again, and the pause of silence seems to concern Stephen who barks, "She's not a hooker is she? Christ, she better not be underage-"

"_No!_" The two of them reply at the same time, and Liv's head is almost in her hands by this point. Fitz can see she's starting to lose her rag a little, so he steps in before she can tell him not to.

"Right. I'm divorcing my wife because we got married, complete with iron clad pre-nup, sixteen and a half years ago, to appease our Fathers, and now, following my looking the other way during the flings she had during our courtship and engagement, and likely the pre-children years of our marriage, she's done something I just can't forgive. Yes, I cheated, but only once, with one woman, who I am in-" He cuts himself off, feeling the 'L' word on the tip of his tongue, "a relationship with." He offers instead, "The custody battle is going to be rough because she sent our children away to a boarding school on the other side of the country to where I am right now, and she'll try and fight to keep them there just to hurt me, whilst I want them to live with me in DC. My daughter is 5 and my son is 8 and therefore they're too young to give an official preference to a judge over who they'd rather live with. The tabloids and networks will be all over this because I'm currently one of the most talked about Politician's in the country."

Olivia stares at him with her mouth half open as Stephen whistles lowly from the other end of the line.

"Nice to meet you, Governor Grant." He says, and Olivia skips the pretence, and with her elbows resting on her knees, she lets her head fall into her hands.

"You too, Mr. Finch." Fitz replies, finding it a relief to finally get the ball rolling with the whole process. "Oh, and by the way, this whole thing has to be set up while successfully keeping my campaign staff, constituents and _wife_ in the dark. Is that going to be a problem?" He asks, and Liv sits up sharply.

_You can't not tell her_. She writes on the legal pad, as Stephen replies, "Not on my end. I'll keep everything in the hypothetical until you're ready to move with this."

"Perfect." He smiles, ignoring the words written on the pad.

"Email me the serial numbers for the pre-nuptial agreement and I'll pull up the documents and see what we're looking at here." Stephen says, "I'll call Olivia when I have something and we'll take it from there."

"Great. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your discretion with all of this."

"No problem, Governor." Stephen replies smoothly before ending the call.

* * *

"Mellie, darling, does your Father know you're in town?" Martin asks, embracing her briefly before they return to separate sides of his desk, sitting down comfortable in the knowledge that no one can hear them.

"He sent me some flowers this morning before my interview." Mellie replies, smiling at her favourite Uncle.

"I saw it. You did great, the whole country loves you."

She knows he's lying - a man in her Uncle's position doesn't have the time to sit around watching _Regis and Kelly_ when he could be working - but the sentiment is nice nonetheless.

"So. Did you find anything yet?" She asks, changing the subject towards the actual reason for her visit.

Martin sighs, "Yes and no."

"What does that mean?" Mellie asks, sitting up straighter.

Her Uncle pulls out a file from a drawer beneath his desk and holds it out to her.

"Does the name Chloe Hanes mean anything to you?" He asks, leaning back in his chair.

Mellie opens the file and takes out the first page - a full profile on her, complete with a picture of a young blonde with gray eyes and a California tan, "I know all about her." Mellie replies evenly, then brusquely, "Well, I know enough. We can't use her. What else?"

"Keep reading." Martin says, gesturing to the file in her hands, "With the two days we've had to look into him, so far it looks as though he's as squeaky clean as last time, barring the girl - and I don't need to tell you the potential nuke she could be-"

"_No_." Mellie insists, "I'm playing defensive right now. If I escalate, to that level, if I expose her?" She shakes her head, "He'll take off the brakes, he'll forget about all his promises to play the right side of the game and he'll forget about the campaign and he will _destroy_ me. I'm playing the niave trophy wife on the world stage to get us into the White House not turning into one for real."

Martin is not unused to Mellie's sentiment's of authority on certain topics, but he decides to let her take the lead on that choice - she knows her husband better than most, and the last thing they want is to lose their way into the White House at this stage in the game. "The only other red flags that came up were," he points to the file and gestures for her to turn the page, "He's been researching DC area private schools in close proximity to the White House like you thought he might, which will work in his favour not yours if it gets out, and…" He hesitates.

"What?" She asks, her face giving nothing away. She knew he'd try and move the kids back from the school she'd found for them the second her back was turned for five minutes.

"One of your husband's campaign staffers… a volunteer by the name of Callum Weeks, told one of our investigators that Governor Grant briefly considered dropping out of the race though he didn't know why, but he changed his mind at the last minute. He also said his boss seemed awfully close with one of the campaign managers… Olivia Pope?"

Mellie turns the page and sees a photograph, clearly taken quickly on a camera phone at one of their 'down home Sunday morning brunch with the community' events, showing Fitz and Olivia walking across the grass to the buffet table. Olivia is looking to her left, at the voters eating with their families, whilst Fitz is watching her with a smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes.

"He's not cheating on me." Mellie tells Martin like it's a fact.

"Mellie-"

"No way." She insists calmly, "He wants to, clearly, but," She sighs and closes the file, throwing it onto Martin's desk, "Fitzgerald doesn't have the backbone for something as immoral as an extra-marital affair. After the whole Michaela/Chloe debacle he's too afraid of turning into his Father."

"If you're sure." Her Uncle replies, deciding to take a look into Olivia Pope anyway, just to be on the safe side. "Whilst you're here… if you're looking into your options, I assume your husband is as well?"

"I don't know." She replies, staring over his shoulder and out of the window, "He… discovered… something."

"About you?" Her Uncle asks carefully, putting down his pen and leaning back in his chair.

"I know what you're thinking, and it wasn't an affair. I haven't been with anyone else since I found out I was pregnant with Gerry-"

"Mellie!" Martin exclaims in frustration, "You swore to us you'd stop that nonsense after he found out the first time."

"Don't scold me like I'm a petulant child, Uncle Martin." Mellie protests angrily, folding her arms across her chest.

"Aren't you?" He asks, holding her stare unflinchingly. "If and when he chooses to dig into you and your secrets the way we're doing right now, is there anything for him to find?" Martin asks and Mellie shakes her head and lies through her teeth.

"Nothing."

* * *

"What are you doing?" Olivia asks the instant they're off the line with Stephen, "You can't just spring this on her."

"I can and I will." Fitz replies, standing up and taking off his tie as he crosses the room, "I need to make sure I know exactly what moves I'm going to make, and what she might do to counter them. This isn't a game to me, Liv."

"Fitz…" She starts, feeling somewhat surprised by the way he's talking. She's uncertain of what, exactly, she wants to say.

"I could lose my children!" He shouts, whirling around to face her, "Do you understand that? Mellie could take them from me, and sure, I'm a Grant, I could fight it, but do you know what Mellie's maiden name is?" He asks, a hairs breadth from half crazed, "St. James. As in the industrial dynasty who make up a serious percentage of the controlling interest in multiple facets of the economy of this country. Her Grandfather is a billionaire, her Uncle and two of her cousins are lawyers with client lists that are pretty much a who's who of the 1%, and her Father owns half of Wall Street. If she tells them she wants the kids, she _will _get them."

Olivia sits back in her chair as she takes in everything he's just said - it's the kind of thing it would have been helpful to know before they started making divorce plans. Mellie on her own is worrisome enough. Mellie with an army is enough to keep you up at night.

"I gave in, before." He confesses, much quieter now, "They were so young when she brought up the idea of boarding school. I fought it and fought it and I promised them they wouldn't have to go, and then one night, we were fighting about it again, and do you know what she said to me? She said that neither one of us were cut out to be parents - her because as much as she loves our children, she never wanted them in the first place, and me because it's not like I've ever had an example of what good parenting is supposed to look like, and I just… I could picture it, Liv, twenty years down the line and my kids hating me the way that I hate my Father and I. I gave in and let her ship them off to the best California has to offer." His voice sounds pained, and Olivia bites her lips together, thinking.

"Okay." She says eventually as she stands up, "We don't say anything. But we need to do this fast, Fitz. I hate lying to her enough as it is."

There's an expression on her face that looks a lot like guilt and he scrunches his face up for a second before jerking his head back, "Why? She tried to steal a- you know what she did, why on Earth would you feel bad about lying to her?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe because she's your wife and we've been screwing behind her back?" Olivia offers, and the word _screwing_ bounces around in his head, almost tripping out of his mouth twice before he huffs a short, shocked laugh.

"Oh, is that what we're doing here?" He asks, his hands settling on his hips, "Because here I thought we were building a relationship."

"We _are_- you know what I meant." Olivia throws back, her frustration mounting.

"Do I? Wow, thank you for clearing that up Olivia brilliant, genius Pope, it's not like it sounded like you were talking about us like we're some throw away affair or anything."

"I _never_ said this was 'throw away', but it _is_ an affair. You're not that naive, Fitz, you know what Mellie will do if she finds out. She'll paint you as a disloyal husband and me as the vicious mistress hell bent on breaking up a family so I can have my fifteen minutes of fame. I mean, she wouldn't even be wrong about me being your mistress-"

"_Don't. _Call yourself that!" He tells her fiercely, and she jumps in surprise. They've never had _the talk_, never dared to put a label on what they are, what they feel for each other, and she realises half way into the conversation, that this might be the exact conversation they've both been trying to avoid.

"What? Your mistress? Because it's so untrue." She replies heavily, walking behind him to pour herself a glass of red from the wet bar.

"_Yes_, it's _untrue_." He replies insistently before she gets there, turning and grabbing her arm, pulling her back around to face him.

"Let go of my arm." She tells him slowly, and he does, like he's been burned.

The air between them is practically crackling with electricity, both of them breathing hard before Olivia says, "You have no idea what this is like for me, because you are… well, you're _you_. If the public and the media finds out a politician is cheating on his wife, they'll rake him over the coals for a while, and mention it in articles or news reports when it's relevant to the dialogue. When the same people find out the identity of the woman- of _the mistress_ - it follows her, everywhere, for the rest of her life. Look at Monica Lewinsky, Marilyn Monroe, Sally Hemmings, they're all smart, capable, talented women in their own rights and all they'll ever really be remembered for is being the other woman to an owner of the Oval - it's mentioned twice or three times in every article you'll ever read about them, and it's the first thing on anyone's mind when you mention their names and you and I both know I'm next. You're going to be the President, Mellie's still going to be fighting the divorce and I'm going to be Monica Lewinsky 2.0." Her voice cracks and she puts one hand over her mouth.

"You and I? Are nothing like _Clinton and Lewinsky_," He tells her, his voice turning acidic and almost offended by the comparison, "Because as far as I know Bill Clinton was never in love with Monica Lewinsky."

She freezes, her eyes widening as she takes in the absolute seriousness in his expression. Her breath stutters in her chest.

"I'm sorry that you're in this position, Liv." He continues, "But, baby, you're nobody's victim. I told you, the night after Mellie and I fought about Defiance, I told you, you were free to walk away if that's what you wanted. You didn't. You stayed, because we're in love, and that's what you do when someone you love is hurting; you stay. You're not my mistress and this isn't some sordid secret affair. I love you, and we're in this together."

He can see the shock, plain as day, all over her face, and he's not sure whether it's because he's just told her he's in _love_ with her, or because he's just told her he's in love with _her_. He's not sure which is worse, and he's not sure he's got enough left in him to have all this happen at once, so he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Sorry for the delay in updating! To make up for it, have a double length update. :) Also, whilst I was writing this chapter, Partition by Beyonce came on shuffle and... well. I'd say I was sorry but somehow I don't think you guys will mind.**

* * *

She paces, up and down, up and down, up and down, near enough marching a clear path between the bathroom door and the window by the bed as she plays it all over in her head.

The biggest thing she's finding, the most unbelievable part of it all, is that it was only less than a week ago that she was still fighting with Mellie about whether or not to rig the election. That same night she'd told Fitz everything, and now the already tentative house of cards that is the Grant campaign is sitting in the path of an oncoming storm the likes of which no campaign before has ever survived.

A voice in the back of her mind says, _I should have just let him quit, _another voice says, _we can still survive this_, and another says, _he told you he's in love with you._

She knows she should be focusing on the campaign. She should be sitting in here right now planning strategy, watching replays of his speeches and making notes, watching replays of Reston's speeches and writing lists of his strengths and weaknesses so they can figure out how to take him down, instead, his revelation to her seems like the most important thing to focus on.

He can't be serious, can he? The man who falls in love with his mistress and leaves his wife to start a life with the woman on the side is a myth; an urban legend created by mistresses who feel guilty about what they're doing and need to find a way to rationalise their actions.

_He did tell you not to call yourself that_, the traitorous little voice that keeps reminding her of Fitz's voice points out, and she lets herself sink into the couch with her head in her hands.

She's pretty sure she fell all the way down that slippery slope of emotional attachment without even noticing it, given that she's pretty sure what she's looking at right now is the sky from the bottom of the cliff rather than the river flowing at the bottom whilst the rocks preceding an avalanche trip over the edge.

Because that's really the problem here, isn't it? Her whole life, ever since she was old enough to try, has been about fixing things - making things better and safer for herself, and now she's in love with a married man who's hell bent on making choices that put his entire life's work at risk. As loathe as she is to admit it, as long as his wife was calling the shots, she was safe.

She didn't dare look too closely at what she felt for Fitz because it was a crazy pipe dream to even consider that they might be more than a fling. Now that there's a real possibility that they could be together - now that he's exploded their bubble of pretence - she has no option but to open up to how she really feels.

* * *

_The Waldorf Astoria is one of the world's most beautiful hotels, filled with some of the world's ugliest secrets_, Mellie's Father used to tell her when they'd come to New York on business when she was still working for her Uncle, _shady business deals, adultery; you name it, these walls have probably seen it_. She's sipping Dom Perignon from a crystal flute on his dime, and she's been staring at a photograph she hates for the last hour and fifteen minutes. Two photographs actually.

The first is of a teenager whom the world has no idea exists, and the second is of a woman who may or may not be attempting to seduce her husband at this very moment. He's in both photographs, and he looks equally happy in both. She can't remember the last photo of them that was taken without it being set up for a magazine or an interview and to tell you the truth, she could probably count the amount of normal, family photos they have on one hand.

The irony of the whole situation is just eating her alive. If he chooses to make the mistake of leaving her, and she tries to fight back, spotlight will be trained on them the likes of which she's never experienced - and in her experience, divorce's always do seem to shine their light on things which ought not to be public knowledge. She doesn't care if John and Jane Doe know all the Grant family's dirty laundry, hell, she'd be happy to feed it to them if she thought it would help - but if that same public, who would eat up all those skeletons happily, found out that she was the one opening the lid on the past? She'd be labelled a desperate attention seeker, they'd call her undignified and say it would have been classier for her to have just kept her mouth shut.

What she also doesn't want, what she absolutely cannot have, is her own family's secrets becoming tabloid fodder. She knows what she comes from - she's a St. James, she was born into unspeakable wealth, and she intends to keep it that way - and she knows that there's a reason that when the media asks, _where exactly does Mellie Grant come from_, the answer they get is a lie. They see a ranch in North Carolina and a holiday home in Aspen, a happy family with enough money to be comfortable, but not so much people can no longer relate to her.

If only they knew.

She picks up the photograph on the left, featuring the beautiful, young girl with her husband's eyes. She knows if she plays this card Fitz will declare war. She's not stupid. But, to tell you the truth, at this point she'd relish a turn on the battlefield. She's not looking to bring him down - if she can do something to salvage this situation, she'll consider it depending on the personal cost to herself - but she is looking out for number one. No more trophy wife. If the time comes when Chloe Hanes needs to play her role on the national stage, well. She's a Grant. She'll learn.

She knows she's in a fairly precarious position at this moment, but there's something in her gut telling her she has the upper hand. As far as her husband is concerned, she's supposed to be back in Dallas tomorrow for his next big debate against Reston. He'll be furious if she doesn't show, the optics will be terrible, and it'll be threat enough to likely have him falling back in line. Surely he must know he can't win this without her.

She drains the last mouthful from her glass and sets it on the table as she picks up her cell phone, dialling her sister.

"I was thinking of coming to visit you," She says, "I'll be in the area tomorrow, we should have lunch."

She smiles at her sister's suggestion for a venue, and looks back at the photographs on the desk, thinking of the trickle of paparazzi that have started following her and her husband whenever they leave the house since this whole election started.

"That sounds nice, it does, but I was thinking somewhere more… public."

* * *

The glowing red numbers on the hotel alarm clock seem to blink at Olivia mockingly as one am becomes two am becomes three am becomes four. Before she knows it, it's five thirty and her alarm is blaring at her, grating on her ears until she turns it off.

She's been up all night because her brain won't switch off, and her brain won't switch off because her gut is telling her that they're missing something. Fitz's rant about Mellie's family yesterday has been playing on a loop in her head for the last ninety minutes at least - because he's not wrong.

The last few days have been a trip on the crazy train to no man's land, and right now, any mistake they make could cost them both everything.

The biggest mistake Olivia can see them making is underestimating Mellie - because the fact is, she's on this journey with them, like it or not, and she's not going to go quietly. It's not in her nature or experience to get anything other than exactly what she wants from a situation, and there's no reason why this is going to be any different.

She sighs and reaches across the nightstand for her phone.

**_Olivia:_**

_We need to talk._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Is everything okay?_

**_Olivia:_**

_Everything's fine. I just need to run something by you._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Liv. You cannot text someone you're with with the words 'we need to talk' unless you secretly mean 'I'm breaking up with you' or 'I screwed someone else, please don't be angry'. I know I've been 'out of the game' for a while, but I'm pretty sure that rule still stands._

**_Olivia:_**

_Sorry… I was thinking about something and I just sent you the first thing I wrote down._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_I'm not a young man, Livvie. You were almost responsible for a heart attack._

**_Olivia:_**

_Please don't have a heart attack. I really want a job in the White House. Take a deep breath, drama queen._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Nice to know you have your priorities in order, honey._

**_Olivia:_**

_I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, Governor…_

* * *

He can feel her eyes on him all through breakfast, but he resolutely doesn't meet her gaze.

He keeps hearing their fight playing over in his head, and he's afraid, now that he's had a chance for some time alone, that he may have gone too far. They'd both been so careful about holding back and not saying too much about their precarious situation, and he'd not only tipped the scale, he'd blown up the rule book and laid it all on the line. Again.

Part of him can't help but feel like he wishes she would pay him the same respect. He hates not knowing where he stands with her.

"Governor Grant? Hello?" Cyrus' voice snaps him out of his train of thought and he turns to look at his chief campaign manager.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asks, setting his fork back on his plate when he realises he's been holding it in midair for at least the last couple of minutes.

Cyrus sighs deeply, shutting his eyes for a second like he has the patience of a saint for even dealing with him, "I said, you and Governor Reston are facing off today at one o'clock this afternoon, which you already knew, and we're all getting to the theatre for twelve noon so that the sound and lighting guys can check everything is ready for the general public of Dallas, Texas to watch you take him apart."

"No pressure." Offers Olivia with a half smile, equal parts teasing and encouraging.

An hour later when they're all ready to leave, Cyrus can practically see Fitz losing it from across the lobby.

He makes a calculated decision and approaches Olivia, figuring this is a way to kill two birds with one stone.

"Liv, you ride with Fitz, make sure he's crystal clear on his talking points, and what Reston could say in response. I don't want any surprises, understand?" Cyrus instructs, head tipped close in confidence. Liv nods, shouldering her purse.

"Got it. We'll meet you at the theatre." She tells him before crossing the lobby to their candidate's side.

* * *

"You okay?" She asks, watching him carefully. His whole body is tensed, his fingers tapping at random against his knees.

"Fine." He says shortly, "I'm just- this is important. I need to blow him away today or I might as well announce my retirement from politics tomorrow."

"I'm sorry." She blurts, and he snaps around to look at her.

"What for?" He asks, wondering if she's actually cruel enough to give him the _it's not you it's me_ speech an hour before one of the most important debates of his campaign to date.

"I should have told you sooner." She tells him without looking at him, "About Defiance."

They're both silent for a second, waiting, before he asks, "Why didn't you?"

"I don't know." She replies, shaking her head, "Mostly because I didn't think they were serious. There's a big difference between controlling the way the public sees the narrative offered to them by the press and controlling who they vote into office. I guess… I guess I was niave to think I wasn't the only one who saw it that way."

"Why did you tell me?" He says, and now it's her turn to snap her gaze to meet his. "What happened that made you change your mind and think they _were_ serious?"

"I don't really know that either. It was like… I was listening to you talking about how close the race was going to be, and I just had this awful image in my head of me never saying yes, the others going through with it anyway and you finding out about it all five years down the line and thinking that I'd had something to do with it." She explains, and she catches her last sentence at the same moment she sees the change in the expression on his face.

"So you see us together in five years?" He asks with a ghost of a smile, keeping a lid on the part of him saying _I knew she loved me back_, as he waits for her to respond. The truth is, he's the one who's laid it all out for her - twice, now - and he needs to know if this is a situation they're in together, or a situation they just happen to be sharing out of necessity for the time being.

A reluctant smile that he can see her fighting against catches the edge of her lips and she looks down at her hands, trying to recollect herself.

He reaches across the car and gently tilts her head up with his left hand, waiting for her to make the next move.

"Lately, I've been thinking… I've been holding you at arm's length so that I couldn't get hurt by… this, us, whatever it is. But. But I don't want to do that anymore." She tells him, her smile growing with the apprehension in her eyes.

"So we're in this together?" He checks, moving his hand from her chin to the side of her face and leaning in closer.

"We're in this together." She repeats back to him, and he leans in to kiss her. She stops him, pulling back just far enough that he pauses.

"Livvie?" He says slowly, and she takes a deep breath.

"I love you, too." She admits, "I'm in love with you, too." and he matches her smile.

"Good." He says teasingly, before pulling her back in and kissing her like it's the first, best and last time they'll ever get to do this.

He pulls back, checking his watch. They still have over half an hour before they'll be at the theatre, and before he can offer some suggestions on how they might best utilise that time, Liv says, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Wait- this isn't what your text was about?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, "What's going on?"

She sighs and leans back in her seat before saying, "Mellie is no wallflower. You can bet your last cent on the fact that she's already suspicious of your next move and she's looking for dirt on you - and she doesn't think like you do. She'd be happy to twist the truth or lie or do whatever she has to do to make you look like the big bad wolf here."

"But I'm _not-_" Fitz protests and Olivia takes hold of his hands.

"_I_ know that. But you know just as well as I do all the kinds of damage a rumour can do. And that's all it would take; a whisper to the right person at the right time and she could topple every card in the deck and come out looking like a hero while she does it."

"So what are you saying? I should… fire the first shot?" He asks.

"No, I think she already did that by choosing to visit her family today instead of coming to the debate. But… you have to prepared for the fact that there's not a lot of lengths Mellie would be unwilling to go to if you push her too hard. You… you need ammunition."

"So I can what, get revenge for her lack of belief in me? This isn't a TV show, Liv. I don't want my kids to turn on the TV one day and see a picture of their Mom next to a headline about how she screwed around on me for two years before we got married and probably a few years after that too." Fitz tells her, trying not to picture how that would make them feel.

"This isn't about revenge. This is about the long game." Olivia says, crossing one leg over the other and leaning towards him. "You said it yourself, Mellie comes from a long line of invisible power - I mean, her family owns half the country and only those in the upper echelons of society even know who they are. She was raised into this kind of war even more stringently than you were - she is _dangerous_. If we play our cards too soon, or make the wrong move at the wrong moment, she will blow us all away and you know it."

Fitz sighs, knowing she's right, and says, "Let's hope I'm a better politician than she thinks I am."

* * *

"Are you ready for today?" She asks him, checking her watch. T-minus twenty.

"I don't know." He replies, nervous again now that they're back on the subject of the debate.

"You need to calm down." She reminds him, "It's not going to help if you're so stressed out you can't think straight."

"I can't- I've tried but I can't ever seem to calm down before these things." He insists frustratedly, and Olivia rolls her lips together, thinking. The driver is paid by the campaign. The risk she's considering is probably low level since paying him off isn't really that illegal if she does it - they're both private citizens and neither she nor the driver are public officials.

Decision made, she leans over his lap and flips the switch to raise the partition between them and the driver in the front.

"What are you- _doing-_" He asks in surprise as she unclips her seatbelt and moves to sit on his lap with her legs straddling his hips, the hem of her skirt rising enough that he can see the black lace tops of her stockings.

"I know, I know, you don't want me handling you," She tells him, leaning down to kiss him at random points during her sentence, "But I think this is one issue I might be uniquely qualified to help you out with, don't you think?"

"Liv, I'm about to-"

"Already?" She says, smirking just a little as she tilts her head to one side and grinds her hips against his and making him groan, "How disappointing."

"_Behave._" He pretends to scold her, fixing her with what she can only describe as bedroom eyes and letting his hands settle on her thighs, pushing her skirt up another couple of inches and playing with the black elastic attaching her stockings to the garter belt he knows she's wearing, "I was going to say I'm about to walk out on stage in front of three thousand people and take part in one of the few remaining debates to decide whether or not I get to be President of the United States, if I have this image in my head while I'm doing it I'm not going to be able to concentrate even a little."

"You're barely able to concentrate on the notes without this image in your head." She points out, winding her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and kissing him hard, like she knows he likes, opening her mouth and flicking her tongue against the seam of his lips. He opens his mouth in response almost automatically, and she kisses him slow and deep and dirty until she's almost squirming in his lap, feeling her toes curl in her shoes.

"We're going to be there in fifteen minutes." He reminds her breathlessly as she slides smoothly off of his lap and onto the floor between his knees.

"Then we'd better make this quick, huh, Governor?" She replies smartly as she reaches up and undoes his belt with sure hands, a dirty smile and a cheeky look in her eyes.

He always used to think, whenever she called him that before, that he'd give anything just to have her call him by his name, and he remembers feeling like he was sixteen again and in love for the first time when she'd shyly whispered it to him that night on the campaign bus, but today, hearing her call him that as she pushes her hand up his chest beneath his shirt before sliding it back down, letting her nails drag against his skin just enough that it has his muscles tensing at her touch, he thinks hearing her call him by his title is one of the hottest things he's ever experienced in his life.

Then he forces his eyes open, and he watches as she leans over his lap, one hand wrapped around him whilst her free hand, the one previously resting innocently on his knee disappears underneath her skirt… and doesn't come back up.

"I was wrong," He groans at the sight, as the realisation of what she's doing rushes over him, "_That_ is the hottest thing I've ever seen."

She giggles around him and then he doesn't think much of anything, because he's pretty sure she just short circuited his brain.

* * *

Cyrus watches from out of sight as Fitz and Olivia climb out of the car, looking like something out of a movie, perfect and untouchable and like they share secrets the rest of the world can only dream of knowing as they all but strut across the car lot towards the back entrance of the theatre where the debate is being held. Fitz doesn't take his eyes off of her as they walk, and his hand brushes against Olivia's lower back as he holds the door open for her and they disappear inside.

He knew it. He _knew_ they were fucking on the sly. God fucking damn it, he thinks, sighing deeply against his rising fury as he heads to follow them inside.

When he enters the room, they're standing in the corner, talking quietly. Fitz is drinking water from a bottle, his free hand tucked in his front trouser pocket as he listens intently to whatever Olivia is saying to him. He looks calm and collected, which is admittedly how Cyrus hoped he might by this point - the problem is it's not like she gave him a beta blocker and a shot of bourbon on the way over here. She gave him whatever the hell he asked for, apparently, and if the way Olivia's jacket (that was buttoned up when they left) is now unbuttoned, it's not hard to guess.

They're just talking, most likely about the debate, but there's another layer to their body language that they're pretty much broadcasting to anyone with eyes. Luckily right now there's no one else in the room with them, but the fact is, something is undeniably going on between them.

He crosses the room to stand with them, and takes the clipboard out of Olivia's hands without looking at either of them or really taking in the notes written in front of him. He thought it was just his eyesight, but no, it's definitely… damn it.

He really was right.

"Nice lipstick." He says blandly, still not looking at either of them.

"Uh, thank you?" Olivia says, surprised, but Cyrus looks up at Fitz not her.

"I wasn't talking to you. Do up your top button." He instructs, looking his boss dead in the eyes rather than at the line of lipstick just above his collar, and tapping the right hand side of his own neck, "But try one of these first."

He reaches around Olivia and hands him the pack of baby wipes sitting on the make up table, all without looking away.

Fitz is the first one to break his gaze, his eyes turning to, naturally, Olivia.

He sighs deeply and returns the clip board to Olivia, and gives them both a fake smile. "I'll give you two a minute."

They don't say anything to each other as Olivia takes the pack out of his hands, pulls out one of the baby wipes, and sets the packet back down on the table. She steps into his personal space and pulls his collar to the side.

"We have to be more careful." She mutters, more to herself than him.

"I wish we didn't." He replies as she carefully wipes away the evidence that anything happened at all.

"But we _do_." She points out, throwing the tissue into a waste paper bin underneath the make up table. She hesitates, before looking up to meet his eyes once more, "For now, at least."

He smiles at her words as she reaches up to do up his top button. "I like the sound of that." He tells her quietly, and she smiles and fixes his tie.

A calm, clear voice crackles across the PA system, _"Candidates, please make your way to the wings of the stage area, the debate will begin in five minutes. Candidates, please make your way to the wings of the stage area, the debate will begin in **five minutes.**"_

"Liv…" He says slowly, unsure of what exactly he wants to say.

"You've got this." She tells him, before smiling just a little as she remembers the debate last month where he'd blown Reston out of the water, and reminds him, "Show them who you are."

He smiles back and leans forwards to press a kiss to her forehead. Right before he pulls away, he opens his eyes and sees Cyrus watching them wearing a sardonic expression.

He'd forgotten his other campaign manager was even in the room, and he finds he doesn't care as much as he probably should.

* * *

**_Trouble In Paradise?_**

_Rumours of a less than perfect (to say the least) marriage have dogged Fitzgerald and Mellie Grant for a long time - from whispers of infidelity to overheard late night screaming matches in hotels on the campaign trail, many people have started to ask questions - but did the Grant's just give us more of an answer than they meant to?_

_The couple have been married for almost seventeen years and have two children together, but a source within the Grant campaign is claiming that both parties within the marriage have been rearranging campaign stops so that they don't have to see each other and even seeking legal counsel on the matter._

_Yesterday afternoon the Governor of California went head to head with Governor Samuel Reston of Maryland, a man with far more political experience than he in a debate in Dallas, Texas, and, in a move surprising to many, won the debate by a large margin. Later that day whilst Reston was seen leaving with his wife of almost thirty years, Joan Reston, Grant was spotted leaving the theatre where the debate was held with his campaign managers, Cyrus Beene and Olivia Pope, and several members of his campaign staff - his wife, however, was conspicuously absent._

_Instead of being by her husband's side as most assumed she would be, she was spotted twelve hundred miles away in her native North Carolina, having lunch out with her Mother and two sisters at an upscale restaurant in the city of Charlotte. Photographs snapped of the group seem to show that Mrs. Grant didn't seem very concerned with the debate she was missing leading many to call for the Grant's to set the record straight about their relationship - and soon._


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Somebody brought it to my attention in a review that they didn't think Sally Hemmings should have been included in Liv's list of former President's mistresses as she was a slave and didn't have a choice in the matter unlike the others. I just felt it was worth mentioning that she, like the other women, was a human being with a whole life and personality that is, 99.9% of the time, overlooked because people find it simpler to merely view her as a one dimensional scandal. However, ****I do recognise that it's a contentious issue, and I apologize if I offended or upset anyone, it definitely wasn't my intention to do that.**

******I'm not sure if the line at the end of the first part of this chapter is out of character for Liv or not - canon!liv would never say it I don't think, but here their situation is a little bit different because Fitz and Mellie actually are splitting up, and because of that, though she does feel guilty, she doesn't carry it on her shoulders 24/7 the same way (also sassy!liv is my favourite Liv, right after BAMF!Liv).**

* * *

"So how do we do this?" Fitz asks Olivia as he buckles his belt, "Mellie gets back this afternoon. She's going to be watching like a hawk for something she can use against me when I don't come crawling back - I mean, we both know that's why she went home and missed the debate yesterday. She thought I'd read a few blogs about it and realise I needed her to win this."

"We'll be careful." Liv says as she buttons her blouse, "Stephen has the pre-nup now, so it shouldn't be much longer before he can tell us exactly what you're looking at, and some friends of mine back in DC are taking care of… the rest of it."

"By 'the rest of it' I assume you mean finding ammunition against her." Fitz clarifies, popping up his collar and putting his tie around his neck.

"Think of it less as ammunition and more as a shield." Liv suggests, crossing the room to his side and taking hold of both ends of his tie to tie it for him. "It's not like opposition research. We don't actually want to do anything with what we may or may not find, but if something happens, you're better off with this in your back pocket than nothing at all."

He raises his hands slowly and lets them settle on her waist. She's wearing dark blue jeans with no socks, and her blouse is still half unbuttoned. A long gold necklace with small balls of clear gems interspersed along the chain hangs around her neck, her hair hangs around her face in soft waves and she hasn't put her make up on yet. He smiles, drinking in her presence, and moves one hand to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing slowly over her cheek. "You are… stunning." He tells her softly, "You take my breath away, Livvie." Her hands pause where they're putting the final loop in his tie and she looks up at him, biting her bottom lip.

"I love you," She tells him, then with a breathless laugh as she looks back to where she's fixing his tie, "You're killing me."

"How's that?" He asks in bemusement, tilting her head back up so she's forced to look at him.

She seems to struggle over what to say for a second, and she half rolls her eyes with a sigh before she looks back to him, "Your wife is going to be back on the trail with us in," she looks away for a second to check her watch before looking back at him, "six hours… and we have to go back to pretending like we're barely even friends."

"We're friends." He counters, skating one hand down her body and wrapping both arms around his waist to pull her closer, "We're very good friends." He tips his head down and rests his forehead against hers.

Foreheads still touching, she tilts her chin up so that they're almost kissing, and with her lips curling into a barely there smirk she whispers, "The best of friends."

He laughs breathlessly, matching her smile as he closes the gap between their lips, a gentle, barely there kiss leaving them both wanting more. But she pulls away, still wearing that one smile that makes him want to quit his life and never leave her bed, and does up the remaining buttons on her blouse.

"Come on, Governor Grant," She says over her shoulder as she throws her make up bag into her purse to deal with in the car, "If we don't leave now we'll be late."

"What's this breakfast for again?" He asks, grabbing his jacket off of the back of the desk chair as he follows her out of the room, almost jogging to keep up until he matches her pace on the way to the elevator.

"This one isn't a breakfast, it's a prayer meeting then a community brunch." She tells him as they step into the elevator car, her lips twisting into a smirk as she leans into his personal space, "So don't forget your wedding ring, baby; we're going to church."

* * *

"End it."

Olivia quickly looks away from her phone and turns around to see Cyrus standing behind her, fixing her with a blank expression. Anyone on the outside who can't hear them might assume he was talking about the weather, or asking her for the time.

"Excuse me?" She asks, and Cyrus shakes his head, stepping closer.

"Not good enough." He replies, "We have not come this far and worked this hard just for you two to throw it all away because you want to screw in the back of a limo the moment Mellie's back is turned."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Olivia answers evenly, turning away from him to watch Fitz and Sally interacting like friends for the cameras.

She hears Cyrus huff behind her and then he leans in closer once again before saying, "Don't test me on this, Olivia, you're very good at what you do, we both know it, but I can assure you? I'm better. I've done things both in politics and out of it that would make you sick to your stomach and I don't want to threaten you, Liv, but to be clear, this is me threatening you."

"So, what, if I don't, you'll-"

"Ruin you?" Cyrus interrupts, "Dig up all your dirty laundry and air it up and down the political world until you can't so much as get a job making coffee and running errands in the smallest law firm in the country? Leak the news to your family that their beloved only daughter is a filthy, home wrecking whore?"

Olivia turns back to face him looking horrified, and for a long moment he thinks he's finally gotten through to her as she breathes, "You wouldn't."

"No?" He asks, sounding vaguely amused, then suddenly, definitely not amused, "Try me."

* * *

They arrive back at the hotel a while later, and Olivia is instantly back on her game.

"Make sure all of this is packed up, I don't want so much as a receipt for pizza left behind." Olivia instructs the campaign staffers as they pack up their temporary office here in Dallas so that they can move on to the next stop on the trail. "Speed it up," she orders as she pulls out her phone, "I want to be out of here in the next two hours."

**_Olivia:_**

_Cyrus is going to "ruin" me if I don't end it with you. Mellie is back here within the hour and she's going to be pissed when you don't let Defiance go. If Cyrus tells Mellie, we've got an even bigger problem on our hands. Tell him you were upset when you found out about the plan, I was there, one time, end of story._

Fitz is in the elevator heading up to his room when the text comes through, and it sends a spike of frustration towards their situation piercing through him. Why is nothing ever simple?

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Will do. Call Stephen and your friends in DC tonight and find out where we are with their research. I'm running for President and yet I'm somehow being forced to play puppet for two scheming opportunists who wouldn't hesitate to screw me over if they got the chance to get ahead. I want it finished._

**_Olivia:_**

_I'll let you know if they have anything for you. Don't let either of them get inside your head._

He smiles as he steps off of the elevator, and deletes the text messages. He hesitates, feeling decidedly sleazy for a second, and then deletes the whole thread. Liv's right - if Mellie finds out about them now, she could raise holy hell and ruin both of their lives with little more than a well timed whisper.

He drops his phone into his pocket and walks into his hotel room, letting the door fall closed behind him.

He shrugs out of his jacket as he rounds the corner, and stops in his tracks when he sees Mellie sitting on the couch like she owns the place. "Welcome home, honey." She tells him with a smirk, "Are you ready to talk about this like grown ups or are you going to storm out again?"

"How's your Mom?" He asks, ignoring her question as he drops his jacket onto the desk beside him and walks across the room to stand by the window.

"She's good. She was concerned that I wasn't by your side yesterday, but I told her it was all part of the plan." Mellie replies cheerfully, crossing one leg over the other.

"Who's plan is that, Mel?" Fitz replies, his face giving away as little as hers.

"Just a little something I came up with in New York." She shrugs, "I want to make sure we're crystal clear about something."

"Oh yeah?" He asks with a vague sense of amusement which he doesn't bother to hide, "What's that?"

"Don't make the mistake of thinking you can do this without me." She tells him icily, "We've been on this merry go round for far too long for you to be naïve enough to think you can. Can't spin a dead marriage, remember?"

"If I was doing this without you, we wouldn't be spinning a dead marriage." He replies easily, leaning back against the window and looking for all the world like he's completely at ease, "We'd be working around the optics of a mid-campaign divorce."

Mellie huffs a short laugh, uncrossing her legs as she stands up. "You wanna know phase two of the plan?" she asks, folding her arms across her chest, "Before I left New York for North Carolina, I paid my Uncle Martin a visit. We had a wonderful little chat."

"So you're thinking of divorcing me too. That's… surprising, but good to know." He answers uncaringly, and she smirks like she knew that would be his response.

"Unfortunately for me, you're still mostly the boy scout you were when we got married… but he did tell me to remind you what a nuke Chloe could be to your political career." Mellie points out smartly, like she's the one holding all the cards.

Every muscle in his body tightens, like he's tensing for a fight, and he stands up taller.

"You wouldn't." He says lowly, mentally trying to figure out how fast he can get a hold of her and warn her in advance that she might have a little trouble leaving her house in the near future.

"Try me." She hisses slowly, and it snaps something in him, to hear her talk with such vicious disregard for someone he loves so much.

"You want a war, Mellie?" He asks, stepping closer so that there's barely a handful of paces between them, "I'll give you one, believe me. Take all the pot shots you like at me, whatever you want, I can handle it, but if you even _think_ about dragging Gerry, Karen _or_ Chloe into this I swear to God you'll live to regret the day you ever agreed to meet me."

"I'm scared." She replies in a bored tone with a smile that only serves to antagonise him further.

"You should be." He tells her darkly, and as he steps closer until they're almost nose to nose he sees the exact moment she wishes she'd backed off earlier. "Do. Not. Push. Me." He bites out, and they stand still, drenched in silence and words that neither of them have the patience to sift through before Mellie purses her lips and storms out of the room.

He's on the phone in a heartbeat, dialling the one person he knows he can trust in all of this.

"Get me something I can use." Fitz orders down the phone the second she picks up, "She's threatening my children and I want her _gone_."

"Hold on," Liv says, "Slow down, what happened?"

"My darling wife," He spits sarcastically, "Is threatening my children if I don't play ball with her. I want her to know _exactly_ what will happen if she dares pull that shit on me ever again."

"What do you mean she's threatening the kids? Are they okay?" Olivia asks sounding alarmed, and he hears what sounds like a door closing as she clearly moves to somewhere more private to have this kind of conversation.

He stops dead in his tracks, and realises with a sudden clarity that he has a problem.

Liv doesn't know about Chloe.

"Fitz? Are you there? Hello?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, wiping his hand over his face before he says, "I need- Liv, I have to-" He cuts himself off and starts again. "They're fine for now, but I..."

"What exactly did she say?" Olivia asks when he trails off again, and he blanches, knowing he has to tell her the truth before she finds out some other way.

Then he hears her start talking again, though it's clearly not to him. "Cyrus! I was looking for-" The line goes dead, and he realises Cyrus must have spotted her, and she must have hung up on him so she wouldn't have to explain to him who she was talking to. He sighs deeply and drops his phone into his pocket as he tries to think.

He sits down heavily and lets his head fall into his hands as he tries to slow his thoughts down enough that he can formulate a reasonable, safe way to handle this. The one thing he knows without a shadow of a doubt is that A, he needs to warn Chloe about what might be about to happen, and B?

He needs to tell Liv the truth as soon as possible - before Mellie ups the ante.

* * *

By the time everyone on the campaign staff is ready to leave an hour later, everyone can sense the weird energy between the candidate, his wife and their two campaign managers. No one comments on it, but a few exchange glances, and Olivia silently reminds herself that they've all got to be more careful these days.

The buses pull out of the lot, and the tension follows them across state lines, and is raised by the fact that they're all pretending they don't feel it.

The ringing of Olivia's cell phone breaks the silence and when she looks down and sees Stephen's name on the caller ID, she hesitates before she answers it.

"Can you talk?" He asks before she can even say hello, and he doesn't sound at all happy.

Her eyes scan over Fitz, who is sitting across the table from her, then over Mellie and Cyrus who sit on either side of the table across the aisle. Neither Mellie nor Cyrus is paying her the slightest bit of attention at that moment, though Fitz looks away from the window to meet her eyes when she starts speaking.

"How are you?" She asks, figuring if there was ever a time to test her ability to be subtle…

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" He asks, and she sighs. Not the time, then.

"Excuse me." She tells the three people sitting around her though two out of the three ignore her, before standing up and walking to the back of the bus to sit down by herself.

"Good news." She replies, figuring the bad news is going to be the thing that requires the actual discussion.

"He was right about the pre-nup. It's totally iron clad, no wiggle room for either of them. It'll speed things up because there's no finances to tussle over." He tells her, and that's one worry out of the way.

"Okay then, what's the bad news?"

Stephen sighs this time before saying, "The bad news is that Abby, Harrison and Huck are here and they have some things for you too. It's... honestly Liv, one part of it is potentially the best news you could hear and... a yet also total fucking PR nightmare, depending on who gets their side of the story out first." Stephen offers bluntly, "The rest is... well, I'll let you read it and judge for yourself. I'm not going to have this discussion with you over the phone though, far too risky. Huck is sending you an encrypted email. The password is your nickname and for God's sake don't open it in front of anyone."

"Got it." She answers as she massages her temples with her free hand, feeling a stress headache coming on.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I realise I am screwing with backstory!canon here, in that according to the show Fitz and Mellie were at Harvard together, then Fitz joined the Navy, and they got married in their early twenties, I've messed with the order of those things a little to work better with the story - sorry if that annoys anyone. D:**

* * *

When they all arrive at the next stop on the trail; New Orleans, Louisiana, they all head off separately - Mellie heads straight up to her hotel room whilst Liv rallies the troops to take over the hotel conference room for their brief stay (they're only here for a few days before travelling on to the next big campaign stop; Florida)

Fitz moves to follow her, but Cyrus corners him in the corridor outside.

"Everything okay?" He asks with raised eyebrows, and the casual question has Cyrus looking about one step away from screaming.

"No, Governor Grant, everything is _not __**o-kay**_. I know you know what I'm talking about so let's skip the part of the conversation where you try and convince me you'd never in a million years commit the mortal sin that is adultery and go straight for the part where you tell me you're going to end it." Cyrus says rapidly, and it serves to only infuriate him further that Fitz doesn't look even the slightest bit stressed about this potential scandal in the making.

"There's nothing to end, Cy-"

"You will _not_ risk everything your Father and I have spent so many years building just because you want to cheat on your wife by screw your hot young employee to keep up the very long and tragic cliché that is your life-"

"Cy- _CY._ Stop. I'm not screwing Liv. I _screwed_ her. As in, once. It's not a big deal and it won't happen again." Fitz interrupts, hating himself for saying it even though it's a complete lie.

"Not a big- not a big deal." Cyrus emits a brief, panicked sounding laugh, "You are running for President, _yes_, it's a big deal if you had sex with someone who is not in fact your wife! Oh, and spare me the patronising bull about how it only happened once, please, I saw you two get out of the car at the Dallas debate looking like something out of an HBO drama, that is not _once_."

Fitz pauses, mentally debating what to say next. He and Liv's stories have to match up, no matter what, but Cyrus isn't letting it go, so he says, "It's not what you think. We were talking in the car and things got a little out of hand-" he raises both his hands to silence his campaign manager when he moves to argue, "But we didn't have sex. We were just… kissing and then… we both realised how dumb and risky it was and we stopped. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually that stupid."

Cyrus pauses and leans back before saying, "End of story?" and fixing him with his much used _don't bullshit me because I will know if you do_ expression.

"End of story." Fitz insists, and he looks so relaxed that it doesn't even occur to Cyrus to do anything other than believe him.

"Fine. But make sure it really doesn't happen again. We're gaining serious ground right now, the last thing we want to do is upset that trend." Cyrus tells him warily as he moves to a slightly less _I'm going to kill you_ distance and returns to his usual tired-but-scheming self.

"How well are we doing?" Fitz asks curiously, knowing that he needs to gain as much ground as he can before he drops the dreaded D-word on the voters.

"Winning that debate with Reston earlier this week has been a big boost with the base, and bringing Sally on board as the VP is helping with both the base _and_ women. It could be stronger, definitely, but it could be a lot worse at this point."

* * *

**_Olivia:_**

_Stephen called. He's sent me an encrypted email with everything they've got so far._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Have you read it yet?_

**_Olivia:_**

_No, I didn't want to do it where there was any chance someone might see it._

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_Meet me in our spot tonight and we'll go over it together._

**_Olivia:_**

_It'll have to be after everyone's asleep. 2?_

**_Gov. Grant:_**

_I'll see you then._

* * *

There are eight people sitting around the conference room table eating Chinese takeout for lunch whilst discussing the schedule for the three days they're going to spend in Louisiana, and since reading Liv's texts Fitz can't concentrate.

It's circling around in his head, this email that Stephen has sent Liv, this email that she's going to open and read in a few short hours. He has no way of knowing whether or not Liv's mysterious friends will have found out about Chloe, but he's not sure he can take the risk. If they have, the last thing he wants is for her to found out something like this through a fucking _email_. It's a sit down conversation or not at all, and the latter is apparently no longer an option. He always assumed he'd tell her eventually but now he's going to have to tell her; today, this afternoon, just any time before she opens the message.

With the decision made he forces himself to concentrate on what they're saying so that he doesn't miss anything, whilst simultaneously trying to figure out how to even start this conversation. _Hey baby, please don't be upset but I have a child you don't know about _is probably not going to cut it.

* * *

It's ten past two in the morning, they're sitting on the bus and she's typing in the password to unencrypt the email. And, guess what? He still hasn't told her.

He knows it's either tell her now or she finds out from someone else, and he knows that the latter will be infinitely worse. He imagines, for a second, the situation reversed. He imagines thinking he knows her and then finding out in an email from a friend that there's a whole, huge part of her life that she's chosen to keep from him. He imagines how that would make him feel - what it would make him think she thought of their relationship.

"Wait." He whispers, closing his hand around her wrist as she moves to hit the enter key to open the email that he's almost certain is going to blow up his life.

Her hands hover over the keyboard and she turns her head to meet his gaze. Silence reigns over them, and though she has several different questions she wants to ask, she doesn't. She can see something is bothering him, and he looks so obviously torn up over it that she decides to wait for him to start talking first.

"I… I don't know if it's going to be on this email we're about to open…" He stops talking again, his mouth half open like he's searching for the right words.

"Am I about to find out something I don't want to know?" Olivia asks slowly, her mind racing through the possibilities. _Stephen did say part of whatever's on here is potentially disastrous... _she reminds herself, feeling highly uneasy.

He sighs before shaking his head, "You have to understand, Liv, I was just trying to protect her, okay? I wasn't trying to lie, I just-"

Liv starts, blinking rapidly in surprise, "You're still trying to protect Mellie? Even after how furious you were with her today?" It's not what she was expecting, and she's not sure if it makes her more or less nervous about what might be-

"Wh- Mellie? No. No." He sighs again like he's bone-deep exhausted, and he leans back in the seat across the table from her as he lets go of her wrist.

"When I called you today and told you that Mellie was threatening my children, I was- I wasn't talking about Gerry or Karen."

She stares at him in silence for so long that he wonders briefly if he actually said the words out loud or just imagined he did and she's still waiting for him to talk - then a look which is a mix between horror, disgust and fury cracks across her face as she stands up and steps out of the booth. He stands up too, terrified that she's going to walk away and not come back, and not let him just _explain_-

Olivia backs away from him as he walks towards her, shaking her head, "You told me, you _promised me_ you'd never cheated before, I believed you-"

"Chloe is seventeen." Fitz interrupts her quickly, raising his voice just a little so she'll stop talking and hear him out, because he honestly doesn't know what he'd do if she just left him now, though he tries to stay calm and level so that they don't start arguing, "I told you before, when we were talking with Stephen last week, Mellie had several casual relationships with other men whilst we were dating and engaged. I didn't know until I did. When I found out, I went out, got blind drunk and went home with Chloe's mother Michaela. Mellie and I weren't married, but we were engaged. I told her straight away and after one hell of an argument we agreed that we were even, and decided not to call off the wedding. I'd been working in the Navy since I graduated from UCLA, and I'd been flying for them for almost ten years. When I found out about Chloe, she was almost two, and Mellie and I had been married for a year. I didn't know what to do, so I left the Navy all together and went back to school. I already had my pre-law under my belt, so I went to Harvard, and I was planning to have a normal life - one which would mean I could still be a real Dad to her." He pauses and shakes his head, wearing a look on his face like he's angry with the whole damn world and says, "Then after I graduated my Father decides he wants to return to the original plan. Let's make Fitz President." He says the last sentence with so much disdain and sarcasm that it contorts his face, "So she knows I'm her Father, and I see her when I can, but it's better for her to be a secret for now."

Before Olivia can open her mouth to tell him what, exactly, she thinks of that, Fitz continues, "I know what you're going to say, and no, I didn't decide that for her. Every so often I'd ask her if she wanted to change the custody arrangements, make things more official, but she made me promise not to tell anyone who she is. She likes her life the way it is - she gets to go to high school, hang out with her friends, go to the beach… be a normal kid. And I mean, I already screwed her life up enough just by giving her my DNA, why hurt her any further?"

She wants, maybe or maybe not irrationally, depending on your viewpoint, to yell at him. To scream and chew him out for lying to her, but the truth is, he doesn't deserve it. She's pissed, and she wants answers beyond the fairly substantial explanation he just gave her, but he looks like he's waiting for her to leave.

The bottom line in this situation, however, is that they hashed this out already - they're in love, and this is what you do when someone you love is hurting; _you stay_.

She feels a lump rising in her throat, and she resolves not to talk yet. She's not going to do something ridiculous like start crying, no way, but she knows he can practically see what she's thinking - because the truth is, it's not the fact that he has this other child that's upsetting her.

"Livvie, please say something." He says eventually, taking another hesitant step towards her. She doesn't come any closer which he hates, but she also doesn't continue to back away from him like she had been, so he counts it as a win.

"I get it." She tells him eventually, before stopping to bite her lip for a second, "I understand why she's a secret if she asked you not to tell anyone…" She slowly rolls her eyes skyward and holds them there, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly like she's forcing herself not to get emotional, then she slowly looks back down to meet his guilty looking gaze, "But, as you are so fond of professing to me, I'm not just _anyone_. So why lie to me too?"

"There was never a good time to tell you." He says honestly, "I wanted to but I just… I've never told anyone about her other than Mellie. Not even Cyrus or my Father knows she exists and I… I'm sorry."

She takes a deep breath and lets his words sink in. There's something about their relationship and the way they are with each other, the way that they fell in love at a hundred miles an hour though the suburbs and cities and consequently always feel just a little bit out of control, that makes it easy to forget they've really not been together for all that long. It's only been a little over three months no matter how much it often feels like they've never been apart. It stands to reason that there's things they don't know about each other yet, and though that will change with time, they are where they are. She can't change it and she can't be angry with him for making the best choice he could with the options presented to him. He wasn't trying to hurt her, he was trying to protect his daughter.

She raises her gaze to meet his, and she calmly tells him, "I believe you." before dropping her gaze once more and stepping around him to return to the computer.

"Hold on, I think we need to talk about this." Fitz says, turning around to look at her as she sits down again.

"We do." She agrees, "But I need time to process and, I know you don't really want to do this, but like it or not we need to get moving with whatever's on this email. If Mellie's making threats we need to make sure we're armed to the teeth to fight back." She hits enter on the password and he slowly moves to sit down across from her whilst she waits for the email to load.

"Just to be clear, are we fighting?" He asks carefully. He catches the flicker of the smile she doesn't quite manage to suppress and something in him relaxes.

"No, we're working." She replies calmly, and he nods slowly before she briefly looks up from the screen at him and then back down again, "Why are you over there?"

"I…" He pauses as she looks up at him questioningly, "…thought we were fighting." He finishes lamely, and she's not sure if it's his words or the way he says them like a high school kid who's never been in a relationship before, but it startles a little giggle out of her before she bites her lip and remembers they're supposed to be being serious.

She slides across to the seat by the window and almost laughs again as he ungracefully moves around the table to sit down next to her.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: So I had to do some research for this chapter, and American divorce law is a little different than the law where I'm from (England) in that because it's a much bigger country, everything is handled by the state you live in. For Fitz and Mellie that would be California, which, according to the internet, means a mandatory six month waiting period before anyone can file or officially do anything. That really doesn't work with the plan of this story, so I'm employing some artistic licence and pretending like America just has one standard divorce procedure for the whole country.**

**36 HOUR TIME SKIP! (:**

* * *

Everything seems to happen very fast after Fitz makes the call to Stephen to officially get the ball rolling with the divorce.

It has a somewhat unreal quality to it all; standing in an empty conference room with a file of divorce papers in his hands, knowing that he's about to walk away from one of the few constant things in his life.

It's not that he has no negative feelings whatsoever about what he's about to do - he's breaking up his family and he's not a psychopath, no one can do this without some sadness attached - but the truth is, since reading everything Stephen, Abby, Harrison and Huck sent to Liv, he knows he's doing the right thing here. The pros outweigh the cons, and he can't ignore that anymore.

He sets the papers down on the table and walks away from them to the other end of the room. The one part of all of this he hasn't figured out yet is what, exactly, they're going to tell the kids. Since she's older than the other two (and has never had anything but a contentious at best relationship with Mellie) telling Chloe won't be an issue, but the two little ones? He's worried about how they're going to take it.

Since the two of them have been away at the preparatory boarding school, they've not been around Fitz and Mellie's near constant glacial atmosphere, and whenever Gerry and Karen came home their parents always at least tried to make things seem happy. He's concerned now that maybe they shouldn't have hidden it from the kids so strongly, because when they find out the truth it's going to seem completely out of the blue.

Thinking about the kids makes him feel doubly worse when he considers one of the things in that file - Mellie's infidelities seem not to be restricted to their pre-marital relationship, but beyond it also - and if he starts thinking about the potential ramifications of Mellie having relationships with other men whilst they were trying to get pregnant, his brain is going to start asking questions that he doesn't even want to consider the potential answers to. His children are his children, no matter what, end of story.

He's still lost in thought when the door opens and he turns to see Mellie step into the room by herself and close the door as she turns to face him. He looks at her, makes himself really _look_, like he's searching for any remaining trace of the way he'd once felt about her - because if you take out the ugly taint to many of his memories of their life together put in place by the revelation that there's was a political marriage right from the start, he did love her once. It may not have been thunderbolts and lightning, earth shattering kind of love, but it was love none the less. It feels like a very long time ago now, as he stands across the room from her, and he looks right at her, and he feels nothing at all; nothing with an echo of something bitter and bad tasting that feels somewhere in between regret and exhaustion.

They stand still, at opposite ends of the room, drenched in the same silence as before and Fitz suddenly realises he has no idea what he's going to say.

How do you end a two decade long relationship that you once thought would last for the rest of your life?

"I can't do this anymore." is what eventually comes out, then more strongly he repeats, "I can't do this anymore, Mel."

For a second, a whole second, something breaks through the prefect façade and he gets a glimpse of the person he hasn't seen in years. He sees the woman he saw the day his Mom died; the woman who came home from work to find him sat in the dark on the kitchen floor, and knew without having to ask that something unfixable had happened. The woman who kicked off her heels and sat down next to him on the cold tile without a word. The woman who wrapped her arms around him and held him for hours whilst he cried because he'd never get to see his Mother again and in all his life he'd never known pain like that which he was experiencing at that moment.

"Tell me you're kidding." She says eventually, not quite covering the shock she's feeling that he's really doing this, "Tell me you're kidding, Fitz, and I'll walk out of here and we'll pretend like this never happened."

He takes a deep breath, and gestures to the papers on the table in front of her, then he very calmly but very tiredly tells her, "We're going to file an uncontested case which means no hearing, no judge, no trail. We both signed the pre-nup so we don't need to fight about the money. I am going to take custody of the kids but I won't bar you from visitation rights. You aren't going to expose Chloe as my daughter to anyone. We're going to put out a joint statement and you are going to smile and wave at a few campaign stops between now and the election. We are, as far as the optics are concerned, about to go through a very amicable, highly thought out and long-debated over divorce and we're not going to drag this through the courts or have a mudslinging war in the tabloids. We won't talk badly about each other in public or to the kids and as far as the world is concerned, our marriage just… ran it's course."

Mellie seems at a loss for words for a moment as she processes his words, before she barks a short laugh, "Fitzgerald, have you lost your mind?!"

"Mellie-" he starts tiredly, but she cuts him off sharply.

"If you think there's a chance in hell of any of that happening you can think again. We are _not_ getting divorced and even if we were you and I both know that charming little story you told is _definitely_ not how it would go." She tells him, folding her arms across her chest. He can't really blame her for her overconfidence; she still thinks she's holding Chloe over his head.

"You're going to go right along with the 'amicable, still friends' story and you're going to let me do this without rocking the boat." He tells her firmly, and she raises both eyebrows in bemusement.

"Is that right?" She asks, like he's a child who's just told her _Hey Mom, did you know that the Earth is spinning all the time?! _Like her part in this conversation is to placate him and nothing else.

"Yes." He replies simply, before continuing, "Because if you don't I'm going to call the attorney general and tell him all about how you and Cyrus and Verna and Hollis conspired to rig a national election and rob this great nation of its due democratic process and that I am just devastated by the betrayal, and not only that, but you also embezzled millions of dollars in order to fund my last campaign and put me in the California Governor's Mansion. And then? I'm going to call the Post, and the Times, and the Herald and I'm going to tell them all how my brilliant, sweet wife lied to me from the moment we met so she could have her moment in the sun." His eyes are just too shiny for the uncaring, hard ass thing he's going on here, and besides, Mellie can_not_ have the Defiance argument again - or dignify his _embezzlement_ accusation with a response, so instead she picks off something else they can safely fight about.

"You forgot someone, on that list of names for Defiance." Mellie says acidically, folding her arms across her chest but feeling a twinge of something distinctly uneasy in her stomach.

"No. I didn't." He replies, staring her down.

Her breath rushes from her chest as she puts it together. "Olivia told you, didn't she." It's not a question, so Fitz doesn't feel the need to answer. "It wasn't Hollis, trying to encourage you, make you feel like you had it in the bag already. It was… god damn it." She breathes the last words to the ceiling, cursing herself for being so blind.

"You have nothing on me." He reminds her, letting the full weight of their fights and this most recent betrayal settle over his shoulders like atlas carrying the world on his back, "But I have enough on you that you could go to _Federal. Prison_. For a long time, too."

Her breath catches in her throat as she wonders how in the hell they reached this point. Their marriage may have been a political one, but they'd always managed to at least act like friends if nothing else. Well, let's be honest, their marriage essentially worked because up until this point she's always been able to predict what he's going to do next, and therefore work out how to use whatever choices he makes to her own advantage. She has no idea what to do with this version of Fitz, but it doesn't stop her from trying.

"It would never happen and you know it. No jury would convict me for a crime that was never committed." Mellie shakes her head, but swallows nervously as he smirks and shakes his head.

"Maybe, maybe not," He replies, "But a friend of a friend managed to find enough evidence on your little - or not so little, depending on your viewpoint - Ponzi scheme that no jury _wouldn't_ convict you for that one."

"I don't-"

"We've been over this Mellie, playing dumb is not a look that suits you." Fitz interrupts her before she can deny it. He doesn't want to hear any more of her lies. "We have evidence that proves that you went behind my back and cut ties with Keith Raias and Michael Cortes, who were supposed to be funding part of my campaign so that no one could use the fact that my Father was funding most of it as a black mark against me, and that you embezzled almost ten _million_ dollars from one of your family's corporate accounts, and laundered it through an account in the Cayman Islands and into my campaign. You told Keith and Michael that I'd decided to "go a different way" with who I was choosing to fund the campaign, and you told me that they'd changed their minds. You know what I don't undestand though? I don't get why you would do it. You committed a felony for no discernible reason and… I need to know why."

"How can you even ask me that?" Mellie asks, looking almost… horrified? And without bothering to deny what she did she continues, "If we had taken a penny from those two they'd have had their teeth into you, they'd have expected favours and wanted to fill your head with their own agendas and I wanted to free us from that."

"Us? _Us-_ Mellie, there's no _us_ in any of this! All I see is you tying me up like a puppet and me having no idea what was even going on whilst you pulled the strings!" He argues in irritation, "I'm a grown man, not a child. If I had taken funding from them, sure, they'd have had a certain amount of voice for suggestions, but that's all they'd have been: suggestions. Hollis is the biggest contributor on this campaign but that doesn't mean he's going to be the one running the country when I get elected!"

He can feel his frustration rapidly mounting and he shakes his head, "God, I am so glad Liv told me the truth about all of this." He laughs, brief and humourless before saying, "If she hadn't we'd probably have just stayed trapped in this vicious cycle we've been in all these years."

Something in the way he calls her Liv, not Olivia, _Liv,_ catches Mellie's attention. It could be innocuous, but after what her Uncle Martin had said in New York, and the fact that it turns out Olivia really was the one to spill the beans…

"What is she to you?" Mellie asks slowly, unsure of what, exactly, his answer is going to be.

His face doesn't change, and he reminds himself that they'd talked about last week, in Liv's hotel room, before the fight, before the phone call, before his impromptu declaration of love, they'd talked about the possibility of this question coming up eventually and they know what his answer to any line of questioning like this should be. "She's the trump card." He replies, "She's the one who brought this whole mess to my attention, and she's the one who is willing to testify to everything you all talked about during your little late night meetings, and to everything that she and her lawyers and her friends with connections to the justice department found when they looked into my election to become the Governor of California."

"There won't be a trial for the election rigging. No crime was committed." She reminds him with a passable imitation of a shrug, putting her hand down on the divorce papers and sliding them down the length of the table back to him, "And I still have Chloe."

"First of all, _I_ have Chloe. Second of all, it's called _conspiracy to commit_, Mellie." He reminds her, slamming his hand down on the papers to stop them sliding to the floor. "And it's still a felony."

He slides the papers back across the table to her, no give in his gaze whatsoever.

"And that's still not counting the felony you _did_ commit."

_Holy shit_, she thinks ungracefully, _He really is serious._

Then, _He'd never have the guts to do this on his own._

"What. IS. She. To you?" Mellie asks again, a knot of fury tightening across her shoulders.

He takes a deep breath and then sighs with a calculating look on his face. "Whichever version of that question you're asking me this time, the answer is the same. She's the endgame."

Every muscle in her body tightens, as she takes in what he is and isn't saying, and the realisation is like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head. She somehow actually managed to underestimate her husband. How in the hell did she let that happen?

She straightens her back and turns on her heel, storming out of the room and leaving the divorce papers on the table.

* * *

Olivia can't sit still. She's frustrated and anxious and out of the loop, and she hates all three parts with a passion - they are useless emotions and experiences, and they do nothing to help her calm down and get some sleep.

She and Fitz had said that they would talk in the morning, and she knows that when they do, he'll fill her in on everything she's missing right now. That, however, doesn't help her to feel any better about not knowing _now_.

She's resisting the urge to check her messages for the thousandth time that evening despite the fact that her phone hasn't rung once when a knock at the door stops her in her tracks. A slice of hope flickers in her heart and she runs to the door, opening it and faltering in her tracks when she sees who's waiting on the other side.

"Expecting my husband?" Mellie inquires innocently before pushing past her and marching into the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: You guys all seem to be looking forward to the Mellie/Olivia showdown, so I hope I do it justice! I will hint, however, that this part of it is more of an actual conversation - they do argue in this, but the real doozy (which I can't wait for you guys to see) isn't going to be a little way off just yet because, let's be real, as amicable as they all want to seem to the public, we all know nothing on Scandal is ever that cut and dry.**

* * *

Olivia closes the door and turns around slowly, watching as Mellie paces back and forth across the room like a caged tiger. They planned for a lot of potential reactions; her and Fitz: Mellie would fight, or threaten, or blackmail or barter or scream or go nuclear and hold a press conference and tell the world about Chloe. But they never even considered this - that Mellie would show up at Olivia's door the very same night with her mouth locked and loaded with the fire aimed right at Liv's head - mostly because they didn't consider that she might know about their relationship. She has no idea how Mellie found out, but she's almost certain that she did, because she probably wouldn't be here, with the greeting _Expecting my husband?_ if she didn't.

Olivia's phone starts buzzing on the nightstand, and she moves to grab it but Mellie gets there first.

She picks it up to check the caller ID, and Olivia doesn't know why, but she stops in her tracks, suddenly feeling nothing but dread.

"It's my husband." Mellie says evenly, holding the phone out in her direction, "Are you going to answer it?"

"Mellie…" Olivia starts quietly, with no idea what she's going to say.

"It's interesting, don't you think? That my husband asks me for a divorce and near enough the moment I leave the room… he calls _you_." Mellie's voice has that incredibly shiny, super polite tone to it, and Liv knows that Mellie knows and her heart sinks deeper than her shoes, "Well, I say he 'asked' me; told me is more like it. He's not giving me a whole lot of wiggle room. I assume you have something you'd like to tell me."

Olivia's heart is hammering wildly in her chest, and her eyes flick between Mellie and the still-ringing phone in her hand like she's not sure which element is more dangerous, but her pause seems only to irritate Mellie further.

"What's the matter, Olivia? You usually can't shut up and _now_ you've got nothing to say?" Mellie spits at her, her face twisting maliciously with the barest hint of madness flashing through her eyes.

"I don't know what you want from me." Olivia says calmly after a moment, reminding herself that Mellie probably also wouldn't be here if she had proof to back up her words, "And I don't know what it is that you think you know about me, Mellie, but it's most likely inaccurate."

"Oh, please!" Mellie shouts venomously, catching Liv by surprise when she throws Olivia's phone in her general direction, but it sails over her head when she ducks with a gasp. It stops ringing when it hits the wall behind her and she turns to look at it on the floor before turning back to Mellie with nothing but shock on her face, "You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about and we both definitely know it's not inaccurate. You're fucking my husband!" The curse word sounds all wrong coming out of Mellie's high class, well bred mouth, and Olivia thinks it must be a testament to how furious Mellie is that she's deeming the word worthy of her use, "So stop wasting my goddamn time and come clean." She pauses, breathes a hollow laugh and rolls her eyes before saying, "Well, as clean as someone like you can get, anyway."

Olivia straightens up slightly, her eyes narrowing and something icy racing up and down her spine.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" Olivia says lowly. Her guilt towards Mellie has been decreasing gradually as each new revelation about her has come out, but she's finding throughout this discussion (though shallow minded attack might be the better name for it) the remaining vestiges of guilt have drained away like they were never there in the first place.

"You're a whore." Mellie bites at Liv, looking down her nose at the woman before her, "A nasty, disgusting, home wrecking _whore_."

Olivia has officially had _enough_. She's not the dumb co-ed who seduced a politician for a story and a payday - She's Olivia Pope and she cowers for nothing and nobody; especially not the snobby, privileged narcissistic bitch in front of her. "You know, he told me the story of how you two met the other day." She says smartly, "The real one. The merger?"

Mellie's face is carefully blank in an instant.

"So if I'm a whore for, _hypothetically_, falling in love with him when I shouldn't have - when our relationship was supposed to be strictly professional; _political_, you might say, well... I guess you're a whore, too." She says calmly.

Mellie would honestly have been less surprised if the sneaky little bitch had slapped her in the face.

The silence that falls after that seems to stretch out over eons before almost to herself Mellie says, "He didn't know."

She laughs then, short and hollow, before slowly tipping her head back and taking a deep breath before her gaze returns to a point over Liv's shoulder.

"He thought… for a long time he thought it was a coincidence that his Father and my boss - my Uncle - were friends and - and that they knew each other well enough to go out for dinner, the four of us together. I- I always knew. I was raised to be the First Lady, because my Father decided I would be." She sighs, and just a little jealousy bleeds into her voice, "I rebelled, in my teenage years. Went to Law School, got a degree, made partner in a law firm by the time I was thirty. I was… good. I was really good. I didn't give up my job until after we were married - until Gerry was born, actually. I look at you?" She shakes her head, "You have everything. You have a career and you have independence and you're free to walk away, at any time. But you don't. Why is that?"

"I almost did." Olivia admits eventually, hesitant to offer Mellie any kind of potential ammunition, "Back before… he realised... what was... _happening_... before I did," She pauses, and looks down at her hands. She can feel Mellie's eyes on her like an x-ray, breaking through to her heart and seeing the bones of her, "He was scared. He'd never cheated before, at least, not really, not like this," she shakes her head, remembering it so clearly in her head, "And he fired me. You were away at a campaign stop in another state, and Cyrus told him that if he didn't get me back, he was gonna quit." She laughs, shortly, almost wryly, "So he chased me down in the hallway at the campaign office…" She sighs and stops talking. "I'm not free to walk away, Mellie. Since we first... I went into it knowing it was never… never going to be easy."

Mellie smiles, finding that for the first time since she discovered the truth, she can truly identify with the woman in front of her.

"I went in to the meeting, the date, whatever you want to call it, with Fitz, with my eyes open, too. I knew what I was getting into, or…" she seems almost amused for a second, by her own naivety if nothing else, "or at least I thought I did. It seemed so simple, at the time. It was a business transaction and I was fine with that, because it would help us both get where we wanted to be."

"But you fell in love with him for real." Olivia guesses softly, half afraid that if she says too much, Mellie will either clam up or start screaming again.

"I fell in love with Fitz right around the time he realised the truth about how we met. I think he would have divorced me there and then, but… Gerry was a newborn and… he was scared that I'd take him away. So he stayed. And we both acted like we weren't broken," she sighs deeply midsentence before continuing, "by it all… because our Fathers had decided one day we were going to live in the White House and rule the world. It always seemed like enough. I figured… all these years, that amount didn't kill us. So," she trails off, staring into the distance.

"So nothing would?" Olivia fills in, and Mellie starts, her head snapping up to stare at Olivia furiously like she'd forgotten she was even speaking out loud. Olivia does them both a favour and pretends she doesn't see how at some point during their conversation Mellie's perpetually icy eyes have melted and dripped down her cheeks.

"When did you stop loving him?" Olivia asks without giving herself permission to speak, though she knows she shouldn't, she just can't imagine how someone could be with Fitz and fall out of love with him. He's a wonderful, smart, loving man whose bones are built from honor and nobility and he captivates her every second she spends in his presence. Mellie wants to know how Olivia could be willing to stay with him, Olivia can't understand how Mellie could let him slip away.

"I don't know." Mellie replies, shaking her head, "When I saw the way he was with Chloe and the way he's always been with Gerry and Karen... everything is so easy for him. He has his morals and his beliefs and he sticks to them; he's an entirely authentic person and I suppose I resent him for it. He's... he's _weak. _Always has been, always will be. I know you probably disagree, but it's the truth." Poison gathers on her tongue as she continues, "He thinks he has what it takes to be the leader of the free world, but not only is he weak, he's _wrong_. That job? It take sacrifice, a willingness to get your hands dirty and he hasn't got half the stomach for a quarter of the things that would have been expected of him if he'd taken this seriously and run like a real politician."

Olivia can't even find the words to reply at first, before she says, "You say that like you think he won't win it without you."

"We both know he won't, Olivia." Mellie replies condescendingly, and Olivia feels the disgust rising in herself, over taking everything else and burning away any remaining friendliness towards the woman in front of her.

"You have no idea how wrong you are." Olivia tells her, blunt and acidic, "About the election, about him... You're just- you're the one who's _wrong_." and Mellie's eyes snap up to meet her gaze in surprise.

The two women stare at each other silently for a minute, and Olivia knows this is make or break. Mellie's either going to destroy them or she's going to cave.

"This is the true definition of mutually assured destruction," She comments almost off-handedly as she stands up and throws her bag over her shoulder, "I've got you and Chloe on him, and he's got Defiance and the money on me. If I do anything other than exactly what he wants, if I tell the press who you are to him, and who Chloe is, he's going to turn me in for two crimes no one even knows were committed." She shakes her head and turns away, and Olivia holds her breath, thinking, _Is she really caving? Did it work?_ "Difference is, political careers recover from personal scandals. My life would be over in a second if he so much as whispered my name to anyone with the words 'voter fraud' and 'embezzlement' attached."

Without looking back she walks for the door, but pauses with her hand on the perfectly polished handle.

"Tell him I won't fight him on the divorce. Tell him… I want visitation, but he can transfer the kids to a school in DC and have custody if he wants. Tell him I'll sign the papers. I won't fight." Her voice, which shook as she spoke, turns to metal in her throat and she says darkly, dangerously, "But I want half of everything the bastard has to his name or me playing nice is over and all bets are off."

With that as her final word, she opens the door, walks out, and lets it fall closed behind herself.

The second the door closes Liv crosses the room to her cell phone, clicking the battery back into place where it had fallen out when it hit the wall, and waits to see if it will switch on again. It doesn't, so she picks up the phone on the nightstand by the bed, and dials the extension to put her through to his room. She's not even sure if he'll be there or not, but right now it's probably her best shot at getting a hold of him.

He picks up on the second ring, his voice stressed and short, "Grant."

"Hi." She says quickly, and hears the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

"Are you alone?" He asks, and she deliberately keeps her voice calm.

"I am now." She replies, knowing he'll know what she means, "We can't talk on this line, I'm coming to see you."

She puts the phone down almost immediately, and leaves to head to his side without a second thought, thinking that when picturing her nights on the campaign trail, she'd imagined caffeine fueled work binges, and too much junk food, and anonymous hotel room after anonymous hotel room, but not once did she ever imagine a night like this.

* * *

_**Campaign Shocker as Governor of California Files For Divorce**_

_The marriage between Governor Fitzgerald Grant and his wife Mellie has been the subject of much scrutiny in recent weeks, and many had already begun to speculate that the two might be preparing to separate. What no one expected, however, is that the pair have announced their divorce today, right in the middle of Grant's campaign to become President._

_Though the distance between them has been, for the most part, fairly obvious from near enough day one of the campaign, the pair had seemed to be doing better for a while; playfully teasing each other in interviews and laughing over ice cream at fundraisers, but it seems that there were greater problems going on behind the scenes, leading the Grant's to release the following joint statement this morning:_

**_"After much careful consideration, though we will always have the utmost care and respect for one another, _****_my wife and I have decided to end our marriage. Our children have always been, and will always remain, our number one priority moving forward. We have struggled with this choice for the last few years now, and though we are aware that it's poor timing, it's a relief to finally have it out in the open."_**

_So far individual reps for the pair have offered no further comment on the shocking decision, and have also chosen not to comment on whether or not the pair would be taking part in an interview to discuss the topic. The only thing we do know for sure at this stage is that the pair have filed an uncontested case - meaning they've both already agreed to the terms of the divorce, leaving many surprised as it seems the Grant's really are behaving amicably about the situation. A source inside the Grant campaign was quoted as saying:_

**_"They both just want to move on with their lives at this point. It seems like a huge revelation to many people, but the truth is that anyone close to them would be able to tell you this is the furthest thing from a surprise. Mellie has gone back to [her native] North Carolina to be with her family, and Governor Grant is looking at DC area schools for his kids to transfer to once he gets elected. Other than his children, right now his main priority going forward is showing the American people that he's still fit to serve as their Commander-in-Chief regardless of his relationship status."_**

_It seems to be business as usual in the Grant campaign then - but only time will tell if their continued efforts towards achieving the White House will all be worth it or not..._


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: This chapter is a chunk longer than usual, but I didn't want to cut it anywhere else because it's set over a single day and sometimes when you cut chapters/scenes in the middle for ~cliffhanger purposes, it makes whatever happens next feel like a different incident/time entirely.**

**Also, I'm forever pissed off that Fitz never got to have his HAHAHHA FUCK YOU moment at his Dad when he was elected. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad the bastard is dead and everything, but it would have been awesome to give Fitz the chance to get elected and show his father that he's twice the man big jerry will ever be. So. Y'know. Big Jerry isn't dead yet in this story. (I realise I probably should've mentioned that earlier...)**

* * *

"What the hell is this?" Cyrus hisses, waving a folded newspaper in their general direction as Fitz and Olivia step off the elevator, just less than an appropriate distance between them as they step out into the corridor.

"What's what?" Fitz asks calmly.

"Mellie just told me you asked her for a _divorce_," He lowers his voice dramatically, following them down the corridor, "And it's all over the morning news that you put out an official statement without even running it by me first! _What_ in the holy hell are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I'm done being surrounded by people I can't trust. And you and Mellie? Make that list." Fitz tells him without looking at him.

"…Sir-"

"Nope. I'm not going to have yet another version of this fight. I know what you were planning and I'm not interested in rehashing it over again, so pick a side, Cy." Fitz says, stopping in his tracks and turning around so fast that Cyrus almost runs into him. "You like ultimatums, don't you? Used to make them all the time when I was running for Governor, made me one when I fired Liv, well, today it's my turn. You are either on my side and in my corner, or you're out in the cold and we'll do this without you. Your choice." Fitz tells him, his voice pitched low and steady. It's more unsettling to Cyrus than if he'd yelled at him - that's what he'd been expecting. He'd told Mellie the previous week in the other hotel that Fitz would have his tantrum and then fall back in line like always. Mellie had told him he was wrong, and had, apparently, been right to do so.

Cyrus had told Mellie that when Fitz was done having his tantrum, the two of them would grovel and apologise and he would take the olive branch because it would help him in the long run, so he says, "Sir, I don't know what you've heard or been told, but we were just trying to-"

"No." Fitz cuts him off. "In my corner, or out of it. Choose. Now."

"I've always been in your corner, Governor." Cyrus tells him, like both Fitz and Olivia had known he would, and Fitz stares him down for a minute before nodding and taking a step back.

"Good." He says, turning on his heel and continuing to walk down the corridor.

There's a split second delay, then Cyrus turns on the nearest available target.

"Did you know about all this?" Cyrus asks Olivia furiously, resenting being finally put on a leash by his boss.

"We have a breakfast meeting to get to. We need a new campaign strategy for the state of Ohio." Liv tells him evenly instead of answering his question as she starts to head in the same direction as Fitz.

"She's serious, Liv." Cyrus continues as if she hadn't even spoken as he catches up with her, "She's packed her bags and she's on a flight back to North Carolina as we speak, but I think we can get her back here and save this whole situation if we can get him to call her and-"

"_No_, Cy. Didn't you hear him? This is what he wants. We work for him, so it's our job to make it all happen." Olivia replies insistently as they walk through the doors to the hotel's empty dining room. Fitz is sat at a table in the corner of the room, by the window, his posture relaxed as he reads over the financial section of the New York Times while drinking coffee.

"Olivia, you know this insane." His voice has an almost sing-song quality to it before he switches back to that so-carefully-helpful-he-sounds-condescending tone and says, "He can't win this election as a divorcee. You know as well as I do that he'd be lucky to win the mayor's seat in even the most liberal of towns with a failed marriage in his back pocket."

"Cyrus." She says firmly, stopping in her tracks and gently catching a hold of his arm so that he does too, "We work for him," she repeats, "and it's already done. The paperwork is signed; the lawyers filed it at nine am this morning."

"Why are you so okay with this? The Olivia Pope I know would be-" he stops talking, and stares over her shoulder at their candidate for a second before his eyes snap back to her.

_Oh, shit, _she thinks, trying not to let any sign of weakness show on her face.

"Mother of God." He mutters under his breath, shaking his head and staring at her like he's never seen her before, "You played me." He whispers, like he can't believe the words even as he's saying them, then his voice takes on a wry quality, "And I'll bet it was you who told him the truth about our back up plan, too."

They're both silent for a second, and then Olivia decides that a hotel dining hall is not the place to have this conversation. "I don't know what you're talking about. And even if I did, we have work to do." She tells him, turning to walk away.

He lunges forwards and grabs her arm, much harder than she had reached for his, and his fingers dig in until she's almost sure he'll leave bruises, "Olivia-"

"Cyrus, stop, people will see." She tells him in a low voice, and her eyes flick across the room until she sees Fitz. After a second, he looks up, smiling at her. His face drops into something far less amiable when he sees what's going on across the dining hall, and Cyrus drops Olivia's arm.

"Like I said," She repeats, acutely aware of Fitz's eyes never leaving her, "We have work to do."

* * *

That day, at all of the campaign stops they visit, Olivia does her best to stay one step ahead of the press all day to make sure everything is set up and ready to go for him. Every member of the press she meets who's covering any of the events in an official capacity seem to want to know if they're allowed to ask about the divorce, and she gives them all the same answer.

"If you want to, sure, but you're all going to get referred to the statement Mellie and the Governor put out this morning. Things might get a little monotonous."

The reporter is about to protest when Liv's phone buzzes in her hand.

**_Fitz:  
_**_If I have to do the whole sad-smile-head-tilt thing one more time in response to the question "how are you coping with the divorce?" I swear to God I'm going to change my answer to tell them that I'm not coping I'm CELEBRATING._

She resists the urge to laugh and drops her phone back into her pocket without replying.

They go back and forth like that all day; texts and comments here and there that they can't say to anyone else.

**_Liv:  
_**_Cyrus is talking to Billy Chambers. He looks like his head is about to explode. Is it bad that I'm finding it somewhat amusing?_

After stepping down off the platform to shake hands and play nice with his conservative-right constituents at the fifth and penultimate campaign stop, he has a second to catch his breath, and instead he catches sight of her across the lawn. She's stunning, as always, her eyes sharp as she scans the attendees to glean their reactions to him. He pulls out his phone and types out a message, watching to see how she reacts to it when she doesn't know he can see her.

**_Fitz:  
_**_In my head, we're not fifty feet apart and pretending like we're nothing more than colleagues; we're holding hands and thanking people for coming out to support our run for the White House._

There's a few seconds delay, between him sending the message and her receiving it, but he watches her take out her phone, pause and then fight against the smile threatening to spread across her face. She bites the inside of her cheeks trying to keep a straight face, but ducks her head when she fails.

**_Fitz:  
_**_You're beautiful all the time, but you are utterly captivating when you smile._

She reads his next message and, like he knew she would, she looks up and around to see where he is. They find each other across the room, and he wants nothing more than to make good on his text and cross the room to her side, optics be damned. If everything goes according to plan, she'll be his first lady soon enough, and it's killing him to hide it when she's such an important part of his life.

* * *

**_Goodbye, Governor Grant_**

_California Governor Fitzgerald Grant shocked the world today when he announced that he and his wife of almost seventeen years have filed for divorce. In a statement released to the media he states, amongst various trivial, standard divorce statement pleasantries, that he and his wife have long struggled over the choice of whether or not to separate. As far as I'm concerned that's a fancy way of saying that he's been lying to the country he professes to love for however many years they've been having marital trouble._

_Though no one's denying that it would likely be possible for a single man to serve as Commander in Chief, there are dozens of concerns to be raised over the concept, and his opponent for the White House (although, whether or not he should actually bother to continue running at this stage is anyone's guess), Maryland's Governor Samuel Reston, hit the nail on the head today when he said:_

**_ "I'm not sure what there is to say that the public don't already know. If the man can't even run a marriage, a household, he sure as hell can't run a country."_**

* * *

"It could be worse." Olivia points out, crawling into bed behind him and draping one arm over his waist as he lies on his side in bed reading articles on his iPad.

"Sure," He replies, "He could have said 'why vote Grant/Langston when you could have a seasoned professional at both marriage _and_ politics!'"

"He's a bastard." Olivia counters surprisingly cheerfully, nuzzling into the nook between his shoulder and his jaw, "This is not new information to anyone. And besides, it's practically the worst kept secret in politics that his wife is sleeping with their landscape gardener, so clearly he's not exactly a marriage guru either."

Fitz barely suppresses a snort of laughter as he clicks on a link to take him to yet another article on the topic.

* * *

**_It's Over_**

_Governor Fitzgerald Grant and his soon to be ex-wife Mellie Grant make history today as the first couple to file for divorce whilst one party within the marriage is running for President._

_It seems this has all been in the works for some time if the speed at which things are progressing are any indication. The pair are filing an uncontested case (i.e. they've already agreed to the terms of the divorce), and the iron clad pre-nup they reportedly signed before they got married means that the financial side of it is already taken care of, seeing Mellie Grant securing a small fortune in both cash, stocks and property from the Governor of California following both of them signing on the dotted line of a Marital Settlement Agreement - i.e. the agreed upon division of any and all shared/community assets acquired during their sixteen year marriage._

_They filed the papers in Washington DC meaning that they didn't have to go through California's obligatory six month waiting period before being allowed to officially terminate their marriage, and according to multiple insiders, the pair will be officially and legally divorced within the DC minimum of thirty days, meaning that though he may well have been elected before that time, Governor Grant will be a single man by the time he is (potentially) inaugurated into the Oval Office._

_In a move surprising many, however, the Governor and Presidential candidate won't be paying his wife child support - because sole legal and physical custody of their two children, Gerry, 8, and Karen, 5, is apparently being awarded to him, with visitation rights going to the former lawyer who will reportedly ask the judge to restore her maiden name (St. James) though that report remains unconfirmed._

_In a joint statement issued by the couple, who had been married for sixteen and a half years, they ask for privacy and state that: __**"We have struggled with this choice for the last few years now, and though we're aware it's poor timing, it's a relief to have it all out in the open."**_

_Whilst some were shocked that the Grant's had chosen to divorce now, when the national election is right around the corner - less than two months away in fact, there's been a surprising amount of public support for them, with many voters saying that they commend the Grant's decision to go public with such a personal struggle. One voter told us:_

**_"It's really humanised them for me. With politicians it's always so hard to tell who you can trust and who's telling the truth, but if Governor Grant is willing to be honest about something as personal as the breakdown of his marriage, it strikes me that he's not got much else to lie about. He's definitely still got my vote."_**

* * *

"You really need to stop looking at those." Olivia comments as she plugs in her phone to charge for the night and leans back against the pillows.

"I need to know what they're saying if I'm going to get ahead of this." Fitz replies almost absent mindedly as he scrolls through some of the comments left on the article he's currently reading.

"True, but give it some time to settle-"

"Listen to this one," Fitz says incredulously, like he hadn't noticed Olivia was even speaking before he reads aloud, "_Dude, I was totally gonna vote for Grant but he dumped his babe of a wife and now I'm not so sure. The guy must be either blind, gay or stupid - either way I don't want him running the oval if he can't see what a fucking catch his ex is..."_ He then turns to look at her with a disgusted look on his face, "I don't even know where to start! At least the other comments are either so idiotic I can ignore them out of hand or they're well thought out enough that I'd be willing to debate the issue with them-"

"Okay, seriously, stop." Olivia cuts him off this time, swinging her leg across his lap until she's sitting over his legs as she grabs the iPad, "If you keep reading those comments it's going to drive you insane!"

He grips it tighter, and trying not to laugh he says, "I just need to read a few more and see whether or not I need to just throw it in-"

"Surrender the iPad, Governor Grant!" Olivia orders, tugging it out of his hands when he lets go, "Nothing good is going to come of reading these all night." She repeats, turning it off and dropping it onto the bed behind herself. She leans forwards in his lap a little, moving both her hands to the sides of his face as he looks up at her in bemusement, "Have you learnt nothing during this campaign? Reading comments about yourself on the internet is almost never an accurate way to glean public opinion."

"Except when it is." He argues somewhat petulantly, and she rolls her eyes at him, but he continues, "I mean, what with Sally Langston and her barely veiled comments about Jesus's feelings about divorce and Governor Reston and his practically archaic viewpoint…" He trails off and slides his hands up her legs to absent mindedly play with the edge of her camisole.

"You're right about one thing," Liv says slowly, reaching for her Blackberry, "He almost made it sound as if men are supposed to be in charge of the "marriage and household" or whatever the hell he called it."

Fitz considers her words for a second, "So we find a way to respond to him in a way that points out that his response to the announcement is not only callous and calculating, but also misogynistic." Fitz says, watching as Liv dials Cyrus and puts the phone on speaker when he answers. He opens his mouth to speak, but she puts one finger over her lips, fixing him with a stern expression.

"We're going to respond to Reston's comment about Fitz being unable to run a marriage let alone a country." Liv says, and Fitz can practically hear Cyrus' blood pressure rising over the phone.

"Liv…" He says, making the 'i' sound like multiple letters.

"Re-read the quote, Cy." She instructs him before reciting, "'**_If the man can't even run a marriage, a household, he sure as hell can't run a country.'_** It almost sounds like Reston is saying that even in this day and age, men are still supposed to be-"

"Dominant over women. That's not a very democratic thing to say." Cyrus says shrewdly picking up on her point halfway through the sentence, "So Fitz doesn't respond. Mellie does. Get her to say something fantastically acidic the way we know she can, then have the Governor say something like 'I'd respond but I think Mellie covered it without my help'-"

"Because unlike Reston he believes women are people with brains and minds of their own and are equal participants within a marriage and a family-"

"Except the last part will all be subtext-"

"Because, between the three of them, the public will draw that conclusion for themselves." Olivia finishes, and Fitz tries to wipe what he's fairly sure is the somewhat awestruck expression off of his face. He loves to watch her when she's on a roll with something - she's nowhere more in her element than when she's planning something, putting something together, creating a narrative.

"Not bad, Olivia. Not bad." Cyrus says in lieu of goodnight, and they both hang up the phone.

It's a solid plan; now they just have to hope that Mellie goes along with it.

* * *

They've laid down to go to sleep, revelling in the way that they can share a bed for the whole night without one of them having to sneak out before sunrise the following morning. They have no events tomorrow other than a meet and greet with some constituents tomorrow afternoon, which means they might even get something of a lie in.

She's curled up against his chest with his arms wrapped around her, and she's in that highly pleasant stage between wakefulness and sleep; warm and cosy and feeling nothing but safe in Fitz's arms when his phone buzzes on the night stand. He sighs and reaches over Olivia to press 'ignore' before settling back under the sheets, his fingertips drawing invisible tattoos over the bare skin of her back.

"Everything okay?" She asks softly, looking up and resting her chin on his shoulder. He doesn't look at her.

"He's left me enough voicemails to fill up my mailbox. I'm not sure I want to hear whatever he has left to say on the matter." Fitz replies calmly to the ceiling, and Olivia realises who's calls he's been ignoring all evening.

"Your Father." She guesses, "You didn't tell him."

"I didn't want him to think I cared enough to ask for his opinion." Fitz explains succinctly, "So he found out either through the media or when Mellie's Father called to chew him out."

"Did he?" Olivia asks in surprise, and Fitz looks at her for the first time.

"If our marriage was a merger, I just forced my Father to flake on a contract with one of the largest CEO's in the country." He tells her wryly, "So I figure I'll give it a few days before I answer his calls."

"Probably not a bad idea." Olivia replies softly, though there's humour in her voice that almost has him cracking a smile. She tilts her head down and presses a kiss to his bare shoulder before curling back into his chest to let his heartbeat lull her to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: So based on the canon that we have, it's not exactly a secret that dear old Fitzy can be kind of dark when he wants to be, so. Y'know. There's that.**

* * *

As it turns out, they don't even have to ask Mellie nicely to get on board with their plan - because it seems that she is twice as offended by Governor Reston's ridiculous statement as Fitz himself had been, and somewhat unsurprisingly, she makes a statement about it without bothering to run it by anyone from the campaign first - and boy, is it ever a doozy.

The clip is damn near playing on a loop on CNN, which the television is turned to in the campaign office, as anchors and guest commentators all rehash the whole matter: a presidential candidate (a _Republican_ presidential candidate at that) getting a divorce mid campaign, whilst seeming to be on reasonably good terms with his soon-to-be ex-wife, who jumps to his defence when his electoral rival callously makes a cutting response to their terrible, terrible heartbreak, before they once again play the clip of Mellie walking through the arrivals terminal at JFK after a brief two day stint in her home state of North Carolina, _"What do you think of Governor Reston's statement about your divorce?"_ one of the scrambling reporters asks her.

Without even turning to look at him, Mellie replies, "I thought what he said was, in a word, disgusting. He's twisting our personal suffering into an attempt at scoring political points - poorly, I might add, since he's implying that even in this day and age, men are still the ones calling the shots and, as he put it, running the household." She shakes her head, and with a performance worthy of an Oscar she looks straight into the camera and says, "I'm not going to lie to anyone, things have been strained between Fitz and I, but Governor Reston would do well to remember that my husband and I have known each other for almost twenty years, and we have two wonderful children together. We will always be friends, and the very idea that Fitz's ability to be a fantastic President has anything to do with our marital status is laughable at best and just plain offensive at worst."

* * *

Later the following day, whilst they're at their last Louisiana campaign stop, a reporter from the HuffingtonPost site asks him, "Have you heard about Governor Reston's reaction to your divorce? What are your thoughts on what he had to say?"

"I have." Fitz replies, smiling enigmatically in a way that makes you feel in on the joke rather than belittled by it, "And I'd answer your second question but I think Mellie covered it far better than I could."

"Have you spoken to her since you filed a week ago?" The same reporter asks, and Fitz mentally thinks back to last night, and to the conference call they'd had with Stephen and Mellie's Uncle Martin, who was handling Mellie's end of the divorce;

_"I told you what I wanted! You've drawn your little lines in the sand, I know what I can and can't do or say, Fitzgerald, but I made my limits perfectly clear! I want half of everything, and you're going to give it to me, or I'm done playing nice."_

_"Why do you want half of what's mine? You come from more money than most normal people could conceivably spend in multiple lifetimes!"_

_"It's not about the money you imbecile, it's the goddamn principle!"_

_"Principle? Jesus Christ, Mel, you wouldn't know __**principles**__ if they were standing right in front of your fucking nose!"_

_"Ha! Well said coming from the man who dumped his wife for a younger model the second he found out something he didn't like."_

_"You really want to go into the 'something I didn't __**like**__' on an open phone line? Because I've got no problems going there if you don't, __**honey**__."_

"We have, yes." Fitz answers, nodding his head as the memory fades away and he focuses back in on the journalist in front of him, "Anyone who's ever been through a divorce, no matter how amicable, will tell you there's no easy, painless way to do it. Honestly, right now, we're at a place where we can really be honest with each other, and put the needs of our children first to make sure that this transition is as smooth as possible for them."

The best part about his answer is that he's not even lying.

* * *

It's getting late when everything calms down enough that Fitz gets a moment to talk to Cyrus alone about something that's been weighing on his mind since the previous day. Most of the people working on the campaign who came to this particular stop are either already on the bus or are waiting at the storage bins underneath the seating area to stow their computers and cameras from the day, so no one is really paying attention to the two of them.

He steps up to Cyrus' side without looking at him, "You know, everyone seems so fond of underestimating me." Fitz says conversationally, "Everyone looks at me and just sees the doting Father, or the Rhode's Scholar/Harvard graduate, or those in the know see the guy who fell for a woman almost half his age," He turns to look at Cyrus, who looks confused by Fitz' non-sequitur, "What they don't seem to realise is that, yes, I _am_ all of those things, but you know what else I am? I'm flawed." Now Cyrus really has no idea what he's talking about, and his eyes narrow as the Governor continues, "I can be stubborn, I know, I sometimes avoid my problems rather than deal with them, and to tell you the truth, I'm not great at dealing with my temper."

He thinks of watching across the hotel restaurant as Cyrus grabbed a hold of Liv's arm the day before yesterday and feeling a flare of anger which he had forced himself to smother as Liv had held her own and then crossed the room to his side with Cyrus following behind her like a dragon ready to breathe fire. He thinks of watching her carefully with little to no regard to Cyrus' feelings on the subject, and setting his coffee cup down to slide his hand under the table and rest it against her leg; his fingers curling carefully around the inside of her thigh knowing he's probably being overprotective, ignoring the fact that he's being possessive. Most of all he thinks of waking up this morning with her curled around his back; legs tangled together with her arm draped over his waist. At first, he'd felt nothing but peace and happiness, and he'd slid his fingers over the back of her hand and in between the valleys of her fingers, smiling when she'd automatically tightened her hold on him. He'd rolled onto his back as he let go of her hand, pulled her against his chest and moved to take her hand again, freezing when he catches sight of the marks he can see on her otherwise flawless skin. He'd pulled her forearm a little closer to his face to examine the already purpling smudges, and known immediately where they had come from. He thinks of all this and he takes a step closer to Cyrus.

"So yes, I'm the doting Father, and I'm the scholar, and I'm the man in love, and yes, I'm stubborn and avoidant and angry, but I'm also the guy who flew heavy fire combat missions for the Navy," he continues, lowering his voice, and Cyrus is watching him carefully like he's a grenade about to go off, "and then I became one of the youngest guys ever to run black ops missions in the history of the American Military. I am _not_ the guy you mess with, contrary to popular belief. So let me be abundantly clear about something, Cyrus, if I ever see you put your hands on Olivia again, and if _ever_ see a bruise on her from you or anyone else, _ever again_, I'll introduce you to the guy who spent almost a month in a CIA black site teaching manners to terrorists."

Cyrus holds his poker face well, but Fitz can tell he's rattled. "Clear?"

"Crystal." Cyrus replies shortly, thinking that if in the end Mellie was proof of only one thing, it's that Fitzgerald Grant is not a man to be underestimated.

* * *

"How's your arm?" Fitz asks, and Olivia barely resists the urge to roll her eyes at him.

"I'm fine, Fitz, it's just a bruise." She tells him, unable to resist the eye-rolling urge any longer when he wraps one arm around her waist to pull her closer and uses the other to take her hand and raise her arm to examine the small dark purple stains on the skin of her forearm.

"Actually it's five bruises in the shape of Cy's fingers." Fitz corrects her, a dark edge in his voice that's just too sharp to touch.

"It was an accident." She reminds him gently, as he raises her arm a little higher and tips his head to press a kiss to the mark.

"I know." He tells her protectively as he straightens up, "I don't care."

"It was an accident." She repeats firmly, looping her arm around the back of his neck and threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his head as both of his hands settle on her waist, "He won't do it again."

"No, he won't." Fitz agrees, with the same degree of certainty, though his is twisted away from the reassurance she was offering and towards the threat she'd been trying not to hear in his words, and Olivia is suddenly reminded of all the things she doesn't know about the man who's bed she shares.

He presses a kiss to her forehead as her phone buzzes in her pocket. She takes it out and sighs when she reads the screen.

"What happened now?" He asks her flatly, and she shakes her head.

"Something of a crisis in the command centre," Liv says as she types something out and steps back, "The interns are mostly running on caffeine at this point, and it turns out that coffee, laptops and exhausted-to-the-point-of-delusional interns are a bad combination."

Fitz lets out a sound that's somewhere between a sigh and a laugh and says, "Tell you what; do your boss thing and berate them all for risking the campaign by not getting enough sleep-" she narrows her eyes at him in a passable imitation of a glare that makes him smile before continuing, "then tell them that their _actual_ boss is sorry about all the overtime, and they can have the night off, get dinner or drinks or order room service or whatever they want, and I'll take care of the tab tomorrow when we check out."

"Yes, sir." She says with a grin as she hooks her purse over her shoulder. She pauses in the doorway, "Will that be all, Governor Grant?"

He smirks back at her and replies, "For now, Miss. Pope."

* * *

Chloe Hanes' - well, legally her name is Hanes-Grant, but she very rarely actually hyphenates when she doesn't have to - life has been… somewhat atypical to say the least. When she was small, her Dad was around all the time. He was the best Daddy in the world as far as she was concerned, and she adored him. It never mattered to her that her Mommy and Daddy weren't together; they were friends and always nice to each other, and she'd never known anything else.

Then, things started to get a little complicated. She hadn't really understood a lot of it at the time, but she knows now that things had changed when he'd decided he was going to run for Governor of California. Their visits became less frequent, more carefully planned, and completely under the radar. Trips to the beach and the park and overnight stays at his house were the first things to go. The first time she saw her Dad on the front page of the LA Times, she'd rescued the paper out of the trash and kept it hidden away in her room until the following weekend when they'd had a visit, and she'd been able to ask him about it.

"It's… it's because of my job, honey." He'd explained, "This probably won't be the last time this happens."

"Am I going to be in the pictures with you, Daddy?" She'd asked him innocently, and she'd seen a look on his face that he got sometimes that she didn't understand back then. She knows now that it's guilt, and it doesn't appear on his face any less often than it did back then.

"Do you want to be?" He'd asked in return and she shrugged as she tried to think about it.

"I don't think I'd want to be on the front of the newspaper. I don't think I'd like that." She told him, shaking her head and leaning against his shoulder.

"You don't ever have to do anything you think would make you uncomfortable, sweetheart." He promises her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head, "I'd love to have you stay with me sometimes, and be able to take you to the beach and the park still, but if we do that, the newspaper thing would be unavoidable."

Off her questioning look he says, "It would have to happen. I wouldn't be able to stop the people at the newspaper from printing it."

"I want to be with you all the time, Daddy." She tells him, playing with one of his cufflinks, "But I don't want to be in the newspaper and have people say mean stuff."

He can't help but recall that conversation now, years later as he sits on the couch in his hotel room with his feet propped on the coffee table whilst he listens to his (god help him) almost grown up daughter reading from the LA Times to him over speaker phone.

"But the most startling aspect to this situation," she continues in a fake snooty reporter voice that makes him smile in amusement, "is the reports coming out about the custody agreement that the former couple of sixteen years are rumoured to have come to. When the divorce was initially announced, most people assumed that there would be no custody battle whatsoever. The two children involved attend (and board at) Fairview Academy in California nine months out of the year and many thought that they would, much like normal divorced couples across the country, simply alternate which parent the children spent the holidays with. Whilst we were right that there's apparently not going to be a custody war, instead Governor Grant, who in spite of this shocking revelation remains surprisingly strong in the polls, has filed a petition for sole legal and physical custody - and his soon-to-be ex-wife has allowed the allotted 7 day grace period to pass without filing a counter petition, meaning it's all but a done deal."

"I told you not to read this stuff." Fitz tells her, rolling his eyes, "That's probably the only true thing in the article."

"They also say you almost stayed together instead of getting a divorce and just kept up appearances, the two of you haven't really spoken since you filed and that Mellie was lying about not having an affair with that literacy dude." Chloe offers and he almost rolls his eyes again.

"Not true, essentially true… probably not true." He tells her with a minimum amount of hesitation, "It's best to take Liv's advice on this one. Nothing good ever comes from reading any of this."

"And how is the lovely Olivia today?" Chloe asks teasingly, "She hasn't run for the hills yet has she?"

"Liv's fine." He replies with a smile, "And why would she run? I'm fantastic."

"Well, let's see," Chloe says, and Fitz looks up when he hears the door open and close, and then Olivia walks around the corner into the room, just as Chloe says, "You're old, you're kind of grumpy sometimes and there's like seven million different things in your life that are scandals waiting to go boom?"

The look of confusion covered by vague amusement on her face has him mouthing his daughter's name at her so that she'll know who he's talking to.

"I don't think I have seven million potential scandals, but hey, if I do, Livvie's a fixer. I'm sure she'd come up with something." He answers her, but she continues like her Dad hadn't spoken.

"Plus, I Googled her, and no offence Dad? But she's _way_ out of your league. I mean, have you seen her?"

"What do you think, Liv, are you out of my league?" Fitz asks with a grin and Liv sets her bag down on the coffee table, pretending to think about it as she sits down on the couch beside him and curls into his side.

"Oh, definitely." She replies with a grin as he wraps his arms around her and kisses her temple.

"I like her already," Quips Chloe's disembodied voice, "You should keep her around."

"I plan to." He replies, though his words are more directed at Liv than his daughter.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: I hope you guys aren't too mad about the gap between posting the last chapter and posting this one. I had half the chapter written, but alas, writer's block struck me down and I've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to get from one point in the story to the next. The next chapter and the one after that are mostly written, and should be up soon (definitely quicker than I got this one up) and the chapter after that is ready to go (and may or may not contain the results of the election). So, sorry about the wait, and I hope you enjoy the chapter! :)**

* * *

Olivia is awoken by the feeling of someone kissing her neck from behind. Without opening her eyes she smiles and slowly raises her arm to bury her fingers in the curls at the back of Fitz' head.

"Morning." She says sleepily, and she feels him return her smile against her skin.

"Good morning, sweet baby." He replies, pulling her closer against him whilst continuing to lazily kiss her shoulder.

"What time is it?" She asks around a yawn, taking her hand out of his hair and letting it fall to cover his where it rests over her stomach.

"No." He replies, and she cracks her eyes open and turns her head enough that she can see him.

"No?"

He shakes his head and kisses her on the lips briefly before saying, "We don't have anything to do for another two and a half hours. We are going to stay right here, in this bed, together, until we absolutely have to get up and act like responsible adults with jobs."

"This is a Presidential campaign. There's always something to do." Liv points out, but doesn't actually make a move to get up.

"Thanks to Reston being an idiot, we're not losing anymore. For the first time in this campaign, we're neck and neck, and we've got time to pull ahead properly. That time is not right now, when we get to have an actual, honest to god, _lie in_." He says persuasively, and god, she can't even remember the last time she had a lie in - she must have been in college now that she thinks about it - but the idea of a lie in with him is even better.

She smiles and turns herself over in his arms, so that they're face to face, knowing she's given in. They're going to stay in bed for far longer than they should, and if too many people notice their absence, Cyrus is going to kill them both. "The election is in twenty four days." She reminds him conversationally as his hands trail up and down her bare back.

"That's true." He agrees, leaning closer, "And in thirty five days the divorce is going to be finalised."

"You managed to agree on a settlement?" Olivia asks in surprise, and he rolls his eyes.

"We managed to agree on a settlement." He confirms, "She's robbing me blind, naturally, but to tell you the truth, in the end I just couldn't be bothered to deal with her anymore."

"You gave her _half_?" Olivia says incredulously, and Fitz laughs, shaking his head.

"Not quite. Your lawyer is very good at what he does."

"I know. He was my boss, at the job I left to come and work for you." She tells him, and Fitz almost laughs again.

"That explains a lot." He says, more to himself than to her.

Then Liv registers the first part of his sentence, and says "Wait, so you got her to agree to the divorce on _all_ of the terms you set out last week… and you made her fold on some of hers?" Liv sounds impressed, and a little surprised, and he rolls them over so that she's underneath him.

"This might surprise you, but I'm actually pretty smart." He tells her sarcastically, and she pulls an overly shocked face.

"You are? You should run for President."

He laughs, "Thanks, but I'll pass." He replies, then leans down to kiss her, effectively ending that conversation. She kisses him back, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and burying the other in his hair.

He loves the feeling of her body against his; they fit together like puzzle pieces and even though it's only been a few months since they started doing this, already they know each other by heart.

He grinds his hips into hers, just the way he knows she likes, and she moans breathily; arching her back and locking her legs around his waist to pull him closer still.

"Mmm, sweet baby," He breaks the kiss and murmurs against the crook of her neck, "I love the way you sound for me."

She tightens her hand in his hair and pulls his face back to hers so she can kiss him again, rocking her hips up to meet his-

The shrill ringing of one of their cell phones breaks the moment. "Ignore it." He tells her, praying to God that whoever's phone isn't ringing doesn't start ringing too, because that tends to mean _EMERGENCY_.

He's kissing down her neck and running his hands all over her body, and she tilts her head to the side to give him better access, but groans when she sees the name on the screen of his phone.

"Fitz," she says breathlessly, "Fitz, stop."

"What?" He's just as breathless as he pulls back, resting on his hands above her.

"It's your Father." She tells him, leaning up on her elbows.

He turns his head to look at the screen, pauses for a second, and then hits 'ignore' and goes right back to what they were doing before big Jerry's little interruption.

It's maybe ten seconds between Fitz ignoring the phone call and the ringing starting up again.

"Oh, for the love of- Fitz, just answer the damn phone!" Olivia complains, throwing her hands up as she collapses back against the pillows in frustration.

"Now?" He asks with a smirk, "Because, I'm kind of busy-"

"No, _no_, actually you're not." Liv argues, putting both hands on Fitz's chest to stop him leaning down and kissing her again, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise before she continues, "Because a) nothing kills the mood quite like someone's Father calling right in the middle, and b) you know as well as I do that we have pretty limited amounts of time to hide away from the world just outside that door, and your father seems to have managed the spectacularly frustrating art of calling almost every time we get a minute alone. So please, for the sake of our sex life if nothing else, _answer the damn phone._"

Fitz sighs and shakes his head at her, knowing she's right, as he reaches blindly across the nightstand and answers his cell on the last ring without looking or moving away from Liv. The sooner he can get this over with, the sooner he can go back to the perfect morning they were having.

"Hey, Dad." Fitz says faux-cheerfully, like they're close enough to warrant that sort of greeting, and Olivia can hear Big Jerry's explosive reaction from where she is.

* * *

Almost ninety minutes later, Fitz is lying on his back in the middle of the bed by himself, and he's still being chewed out by his Father. He tunes back into the conversation for a moment, to make sure he's not missing anything important-

"…not to mention what the party must be thinking about this, Fitzgerald, they give you the nomination and then a month before the election you decide to pull this bullshit stunt-"

He abruptly zones back out again, forcing himself to hold in the sigh threatening to fall from his lips because he knows it would only serve to anger his Father further.

His attention is drawn across the room when the bathroom door opens and Liv steps out; she's wearing one of his white undershirts and rubbing a towel over her wet hair as she walks back into the room, and suddenly what his Father is saying doesn't seem to matter at all.

His Father pauses for breath, and Fitz 'mhmm's' like he's listening as Liv kneels down by her suitcase and opens it up, staring down at the contents and dropping the towel for her hair on the floor next to herself.

"-And what about your reputation- hell, what about _my_ reputation? Have you considered what this is going to do to the family name, you selfish son of a-"

Jerry's yelling is so loud that Liv can almost pick out what he's saying word for word, even from across the room, and in the privacy of her own head she thinks _funny, you didn't seem to have the same concern for "the family name" when you cheated on your wife with a small army of prostitutes._

She picks up the clothes she needs and stands up, laying them out over the dresser beneath the TV directly across from the bed. There's a horribly dejected, repressed look on Fitz' face, and she remembers thinking, that night in the hallway when Jerry tore Fitz down so brutally, that she'd do anything to make sure he never had to wear that look again.

A half smile plays on her lips as she plays with the bottom of the shirt she's wearing. His shirt. His eyes, which she knows have been trained on her since she left the bathroom, follow her hands as she raises them up her body, taking the fabric of his shirt with them. His lips twist into a smirk to match hers, but he narrows his eyes when she starts getting dressed.

"You're so cruel to me." He mouths with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes.

She pauses, knowing she has his full attention despite the fact that she's putting clothes on her body rather than taking them off, and she takes sympathy on him.

She knocks loudly on the dresser she's leaning against a few times, like she's knocking on a door. His eyes widen, and then she calls, loud enough that she knows Jerry will hear her, "Governor Grant?"

He's looking at her like she's lost her mind, but knowing that his Father can hear him - and her - he says, "…Yes, Miss. Pope?"

"Sorry to interrupt, Governor, but there's a situation that requires your attention." She tells him coquettishly, and his deer-in-the-headlights look morphs into something closer to a grin when he realises she's giving him an out.

"I'm speaking to my Father," He says, standing up and rounding the bed to stand right in front of her and then continuing to move forwards, backing her up until her back hits the wall, "Can it wait?"

"No, sir," She replies, turning them around so that he's pressed up against the wall instead of her, her voice impressively professional for someone who's at least half naked and sinking to their knees, "It's pretty urgent."

* * *

A little over an hour later, they're both sitting in one of the hotel's conference rooms with Cyrus when one of the staffers comes in.

"Sorry to disturb you guys, but…" the volunteer hesitates, glancing down at the iPad in her hands like she's avoiding making eye contanct.

"It's no problem…" Cyrus trails off, unable to remember the girl's name.

"Zoe." The dark haired girl says quickly, "And I just… thought you might want to see this."

She crosses the room and hands the tablet to Olivia, the only person in the room who, whilst still scaring the bejeezus out of her, doesn't also make her feel like a kid at the grownups table whenever she speaks. Liv takes it and reads the article.

"It's a nothing blog with no comments and likely even less readers. I wouldn't worry about it, Zoe, but thank you." Liv says politely, offering the tablet back to her, hoping Fitz doesn't ask to read it.

"That's not why I showed it to you." Zoe says, wringing her hands at the thought of disagreeing with Olivia, especially in front of her boss and her boss' boss. "I mostly work with the PR side of the campaign… specifically, monitoring the internet and social media for public reactions to whatever's going on that's anywhere close to being related to the election."

"Zoe-"

"He - or she - or whoever wrote that article might well be a nothing blogger with no readers, but whoever they are, they aren't alone in their line of thinking." Zoe rushes to say, slightly unable to believe she just interrupted Olivia Pope.

"Okay." Olivia says slowly, setting the iPad down on the table and leaning back a little, and the word sounds like _continue_ or _explain_, so Zoe does.

"Ever since that LA Times article came out where they reported that the Governor had filed for sole custody, women have been starting to respond positively to the idea of Governor Grant not just paying his ex-wife alimony, but actually raising the children… at least, initially."

The silence that reigns following her statement is uncomfortable, and Fitz senses he's probably going to have to be the one to break it.

"What do you mean initially?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest.

"Some people are saying it's a stunt. That you just want to use your children as pawns in your divorce-"

"Are you serious? I would never-"

"Let her finish." Cyrus interrupts, and Fitz' mouth snaps closed though he still looks enraged. Off of Olivia's subtle nod, Zoe continues talking.

"Other people are questioning how…" She takes a deep breath, and then says quickly, "How you're planning to raise two kids under the age of ten whilst also running a country, the armed forces and everything else a President is expected to do."

Once again, silence takes hold, and this time, it's Olivia who breaks it.

"Thank you, Zoe." She says, "If you spot anything like this again, even if it seems trivial, let me know, okay?"

Zoe nods mutely, then, sensing the dismissal in Olivia's words, takes her leave.

The second the door closes, Fitz is on his feet and pacing. He can't stop thinking about his children over hearing a couple of their teachers, or friend's parents, talking about the idea that he might stoop so low as to use their existence to make his own life easier.

"I need to see them, Liv. I've explained all this best I can to them over the phone, but…"

"But there's some conversations you can only really have in person, I know." Liv finishes for him, and then bites the inside of her cheek like she doesn't want to say what she's thinking.

"What?" He says slowly, and for a minute she just looks at him calculatingly.

"There's a way you could see them, but I don't know if you're going to like it." She says.

"Okay, what's going on?" He asks, slowly sitting back down next to her.

Olivia and Cyrus exchange a look, and then Cyrus says, "Governor, as much as we're managing to get through the divorce bombshell relatively, and surprisingly, unscathed… it's still something that the public need reassurance about."

"Reassurance? What kind of reassurance?" Fitz asks, wishing that everyone would just stop speaking in riddles at him all the time, like they think he'll be less angry about ideas he might disagree with if they've coaxed him into figuring out their plans before they're forced to say them out loud to him - as if they all think he's one of those guys who thinks _I said it first therefore it was all my idea_.

"The two days of events we cancelled in New Hampshire and the ways we used that time instead of campaign stops helped the public to see you as… the blue collar family man, instead of just next in line to a political dynasty. We could cancel the events we have scheduled for this weekend, and set it up so that you and your kids spend it on the family ranch in California-"

"No." He says emphatically, before Cyrus can finish his sentence, "I want to see my kids but I don't like giving my father unlimited access to them - he did enough damage to me as a child, I'm not going to let him put the same pressure on them."

"It would be one weekend, Governor Grant." Cyrus says persuasively, "We won't ask you to do photo-ops with the kids, because I know you'll refuse, but we'll let the media see the three of you driving through the gates on Saturday morning, and then you'll be hidden away in your bubble of 'family time' until Monday when a shot of you dropping the kids off at school like a regular working single Dad, and then you'll be back on the campaign trail looking renewed and ready to cross the finish line. The pictures don't even need to include their faces, or them at all if it's that much of an issue for you, witnesses and - if we have to - well placed leaks will tell the media what they saw - which is you and your Father and your two adorable children spending a family weekend together and supporting each other in this very difficult time."

Fitz knows Cyrus is right about one thing: the optics of what he's describing would be fantastic, but he can't shake the feeling that having him and his Father in the same house for almost forty eight hours is not going to turn out well for anyone.

"I don't want to see him." Fitz says without meaning to.

"You don't have to see him anymore than necessary. We'll take a small group of trusted staffers to California to keep an eye on the campaign, and on Saturday night the whole group goes out for dinner - somewhere classy but not too exclusive - and other than that you don't have to speak to each other at all if you don't want to." Liv points out.

"Come on, Livvie, you remember what a shit show it was last time I saw him!" Fitz argues, and Olivia folds her arms across her chest.

"Yeah, Fitz, I do. Remind me not to hang around in any elevators whilst he's here." She sasses at him. He knows he deserved the comment, but that doesn't make it hurt any less to be reminded of that night. His face falls as soon as the words leave her mouth, and she almost regrets saying them.

"Something I'm missing?" Cyrus asks, his eyes flashing between the two of them.

There's a pause, and then Liv shakes her head. She takes a deep breath and turns back to face Fitz.

"We need to hold onto the family values angle. I know you can't stand him, but the fact is, it's not his political capital you need this time. It's the fact that he's your father. We need the public to see you and your dear old Dad spending quality time together with your children, like a family dinner out that people will see a candid photo of, and smile at it and think 'sure, he's on his way to divorced and single now, but he's not going to turn the White House into the Playboy Mansion because he's a real, down to Earth, family man."

She stares at him, waiting for him to make a decision.

"I am _not_ happy about this." He says, instead of having to say, _okay, set it up with my Father_.

* * *

"I just want to get you guys up to speed with what's going on - this weekend the Governor is visiting his family in California, meaning that we'll be taking a small group of staffers there, but everyone in this room isn't on that list, so you guys get this weekend off."

Everyone seems initially suspicious, but Liv nods with a smile, "I'm serious. The only reason we'll ask you to come back in is if there's a campaign related emergency. Consider yourselves on call, but remember that it's highly unlikely anything will happen. Go relax!"

They all seem a little less hesitant after her reassurance, and the stressed atmosphere seems to breathe a little easier.

"I'm guessing I'm on the list of people going to California then." Callum sighs as Liv steps out of the room and into the hallway.

"Sorry, Callum, you're far too valuable to be allowed to have time off." Liv tells him with a smile as she heads for the elevator, eager to get back to the room knowing that Fitz and Chinese food are waiting for her when she gets there.

"Dammit. I knew I should've been worse at this." Callum jokes, shaking his head. Liv says goodnight as she steps into the elevator and the doors slide closed in front of her face. He pulls out his cell phone and pulls up his text messages the second she's gone.

**_Callum Weeks:  
_**_All events for this weekend cancelled. Grant, Beene, Pope and small group of staffers (inc. me) heading to California to FTGII's ranch for "family time"._

**_Private:  
_**_Good. Keep eyes and ears on everything and report back like always._

* * *

"I've been thinking." Fitz says, setting his chopsticks down and leaning back in his chair.

"I thought I could smell burning…" Liv says with fake seriousness, and he just rolls his eyes and ignores her.

"I'm serious, Liv."

"Okay." She says, her face matching his tone, "What's going on?"

"If/when I get elected, I have certain positions I have to fill - Secretary of State, my Chief of Staff - which will most likely be Cy," He hesitates, and then watching to gauge her reaction he says, "My Director of Communications."

There's a beat when she doesn't say anything, and then she says, "That is a terrible idea on so many levels I don't even know where to start."

He blinks in surprise and then somewhat sarcastically says, "Don't hold back, Liv, tell me how you really feel."

"No, I didn't mean- I just." She stops talking and sighs, setting down her own chopsticks and pausing like she's organising her words to make them mean exactly what she's intending for them to, "We're… we're _together_." She reminds him, like he's not acutely aware of that fact already, "And these things always come out. The rumours about the start of our relationship are going to be bad enough as it is, if I'm employed by the White House at the time - especially in a public facing position like that, it could be a disaster for your administration."

"It would also be great for your career, and it would be a ready made reason for you to be at the White House all the time." He points out, and she can't really argue with him there. "We've not exactly talked much about what it is you were doing before Cyrus brought you on to the campaign, but given that your former boss is now my divorce lawyer, I'd say that people are going to talk about that stuff whether you're working with me or not."

"I don't know…" She says somewhat anxiously, her thoughts in a whirl as she tries to sort through the pros and the cons of his offer.

"Just… promise me you'll at least think about it?" He asks, tucking her into his side thinking that he's thankful she didn't just outright turn him down.

"I- I'll think about it." She promises, knowing she'll likely be able to think about little else for a while.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: So this chapter wasn't quite finished and already getting waaaay too long, so I've split it in half so that you guys don't have to wait ages for an update (again). Also, to the guest reviewer who asked if I was British because of the way I spell some words, yes, you caught me, I'm from England - and sorry about the weird spellings, I try to fix them where I notice them, but they slip through sometimes.**

* * *

Fitz decides to keep it a surprise for the kids that he's coming into town so they can spend the weekend together - partly because he can't wait to see their faces when they realize they get to leave their school for the weekend, and also because he must admit, he's a little nervous. He hasn't seen them since the campaign started, and though they've spoken on the phone whenever they can, it's not the same.

He wants Liv with him when he picks up the kids, but they talk about it and agree that it's probably best he sees them by himself first, so they decide that Liv will head straight to the ranch and deal with some campaign details, and meet them when they arrive.

He can't help but think he's both relieved and frustrated by the decision - relieved because there's even more press following him in California than anywhere else and the last thing they need is rumors blowing up right now when the election is a little over two weeks away, and frustrated because he wishes she was here. He's about to spend the next two days in his childhood home, and though he's excited to have Liv and his kids there, forty eight hours of undiluted Fitzgerald Grant II is a somewhat less pleasing prospect.

He can hear them now; the ever growing herd of photographers and journalists who now seem to stalk his every move, as the five of them (himself, his kids and the two security guys) walk to the car, but he doesn't turn around. Gerry is walking beside him, holding his hand and trying to be brave and not get scared by the wall of people yelling and taking pictures of them just trying to get into their car. Fitz holds Karen at his hip, and she's wrapped in his blazer with her face tucked into his neck because the flashing lights and the yelling always terrifies her. He keeps a tight hold on her, and he can feel her trembling in his arms. She's only five, she doesn't really understand everything that's going on, and that makes it even scarier for her.

As soon as they're close enough, the security guy who follows them wherever there might be large crowds (he doesn't have compulsory 24/7 security guards yet thank god), opens the back door of the car. Gerry jumps in ahead of him, and Fitz climbs in behind, settling Karen onto his lap. She clings to him and he kisses her on the forehead, "I'm sorry about that guys," He tells them both, "Once we get onto the ranch they won't be able to follow us."

Gerry nods mutely and pulls on his seat belt, Karen doesn't say anything either, just curls into his chest and wraps the blazer tighter around herself like a security blanket.

* * *

The three of them are sitting in the living room - it's an expansive space when it's empty, but right now it feels airless and cluttered with couches and plants and statues. It reeks of new money, and Fitz has always hated this room. The only other room in the house he dislikes as strongly as he dislikes this room is his Father's office.

He's watching them do their homework in silence, and he knows he has to have this conversation with them at some point, so he takes a deep breath and starts, "Now that your Mom and I are getting divorced-"

"Are we ever gonna see you again?" Karen blurts out, and, stunned, his gaze snaps around to meet hers. She looks sad, and a little afraid, and for a second, he has no words.

"Of course you're going to- why would- Kara, why would you ask me that?"

"'Cause when Jessica Kramer's Mom and Dad got a divorce her Daddy never came back." She tells him, in that completely emphatic way only children can.

"I'm not going anywhere." He tells her seriously, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you both about though - how would you guys feel about coming to live with me all the time?" He asks, and Karen looks to her older brother to answer for them both, a habit he's just noticing she's developing. She's happy to talk for herself unless the option to let Gerry speak for them both presents itself, then she clams up.

"You said that we wouldn't have to go to stupid boarding school ever but you lied. Are you lying now too?" Gerry asks distrustfully, and it near enough cracks his heart in half to hear his son's words.

"No, buddy, I'm not lying." Fitz says, somewhat sadly, but neither one of them look any happier than he is. They look small and polite and he's suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia; he'd begged his parents to let him come home from boarding school for the weekend of his tenth birthday, and when his Mother had finally convinced his Father to agree - and not only agree, but to offer to try and take the afternoon off work and spend time with him, he'd been beyond excited. As usual, however, Jerry had forgotten, and Fitz had ended up sitting outside his office with nothing to do but listen to Jerry bang his secretary and feel completely and utterly rejected and alone.

He never, _never_, wants his own children to feel that way, and though he knows it's a risk, considering things might not go to plan, he says, "No matter what happens with the election - whether I win or not, when it's over, I _promise_ that you don't have to go back to that school after Christmas vacation if you don't want to."

"That's like a month!" Gerry says, unable to stop the excitement that spills over at the idea of not having to go back to boarding school.

"The election is in seventeen days." Fitz tells them, "and your Christmas break starts December 23rd. After that, _whether I win the election or not_, you guys aren't going back to that school."

"You promise?" Karen asks him in a small voice.

"Yeah, princess, I promise." He tells her with a hopeful smile, and she nods, and then slides off of the chair she's sitting on and climbs into his lap.

"We missed you, Daddy." She tells him quietly, and Gerry nods his agreement and leans his head on his Father's arm.

"I missed you too." He says around the lump in his throat, and wraps his arms around both of them.

* * *

"I don't understand what, _exactly_, about this you find so difficult to comprehend. The Governor has been very clear about this on a number of occasions - not that he should have to repeat himself on the matter - printing pictures of him is fair game, but leave his children out of it." Liv says firmly, her heels clicking against the marble floor of the entry way to the main house on the sprawling ranch.

It's a beautiful house - not her style, but beautiful none the less.

"It- it must have been some kind of mistake, Ms. Pope." The guy on the other end of the phone stammers; he's a lawyer for one of the tabloids, she forgets which, but whichever one it is, they printed two photographs featuring Gerry and Karen without permission - and if they were street candids, there wouldn't be a whole lot that they could do about it, but they weren't. They were family photos, clearly leaked by someone on the inside, "The legal department were told the writer had permission to use the photographs."

"Well, they didn't." Liv replies, "And I don't have to tell you who you're dealing with here-"

She steps into yet another room (she's pretty sure this is another sitting room), and stops speaking midway through her sentence, caught off guard when she sees Fitz sitting with Gerry and Karen.

"Don't make me remind you again." Liv says into the phone and then snaps it shut.

There's a pause of silence, and then Gerry says, "Who are you?"

Liv looks to Fitz to answer that one.

"Guys, this is... my friend, Liv." Fitz tells them, hoping he sounds calmer than he feels. He wants to be more honest with them, but they are still little, and his divorce isn't finalised yet and he doesn't want to confuse them.

"Oh. Cool." Gerry says before turning back to his homework.

"Hi." Karen says shyly, offering a small wave from the cocoon of Fitz' arms.

"Hi," Liv says with a smile, "It's nice to meet you.", thinking that as far is meeting his kids went, it could have gone worse.

* * *

The dinner goes better than Fitz was expecting - in that everyone (at least, everyone but Big Jerry) attempts to be on their best behaviour and no one gets arrested for assault or public drunkenness (though the latter was a close call for Big Jerry and the former a close call for Fitz) - but the parts no one could see; the conversation and the atmosphere, well, that went exactly _as_ Fitz was expecting - that is to say, horribly.

Fitz wants to keep his children away from these kinds of so-called "family functions" because nothing good ever comes from putting children near to his Father, and though he knows it's something that they're bound to become aware of eventually, he doesn't want his kids growing up carrying the weight of the Grant political dynasty on their shoulders. Even when they do become aware of it, he never wants them to feel under pressure to conform to it either.

The trouble starts when Big Jerry is around half way through his third scotch. He uses the glass in his hand to gesticulate in eight year old Gerry's general direction and calls down the table, "You're next in line, kid. Gonna be a prize politician someday."

"No, I'm not." Gerry replies, with all the innocence of a child his age, "I'm gonna be a fireman." He pauses and then says, "Or maybe I'm gonna do ballet. I haven't decided yet."

"The hell you are!" His Grandfather calls back like he's personally offended by his Grandson's words, which, knowing the kind of man he is, he probably is, "_Ballet_? What the fuck are you teaching these kids, Fitzgerald?"

"Watch your language in front of them." Fitz replies, just barely resisting the urge to snap, knowing that the cursing is the easier argument to tackle in public.

"I'm not dead yet, son, I'm still the head of this family so don't go telling me what to do." He downs the rest of his drink and then snaps his fingers in the vague direction of one of their waitresses like he's summoning a servant, then he continues, "No Grant boy is going to be a fucking ballerina like some kind of queer!"

Fitz turns his head quickly in the direction of both his kids, watching both of them to see if they seem bothered by Jerry's outburst. Karen looks exhausted and doesn't seem to have noticed the raised voices at all, but Gerry is staring down at his plate as if he's scared to look up.

"I wanted to dance when I was your age." Liv says quietly, distracting Gerry from the less than subtle argument gradually increasing in volume between Fitz and his Father about whether or not it's appropriate to repeatedly yell the 'f' word in front of an eight year old and a five year old. If they get any louder she's going to tell them to cut it out - though this trip is supposed to be about giving Fitz and his two youngest children a chance to have some time together, this part of the trip, the dinner out, is supposed to be about solidifying the family values image they've all worked so hard to cultivate.

"Really?" Gerry asks, looking at her hands instead of her face.

"Really." She replies, thinking of the summer she'd spent convinced it was her destiny to be the world's best ballerina (she'd sucked at it, but her Mother had supported her the entire time) "I was pretty good, too."

"No you weren't!" Gerry giggles, like he doesn't believe her.

"Hey, mister, I had moves, okay?" She teases, like she's a little offended. But at least he's looking at her, meeting her eyes and smiling now.

Fitz sighs and takes a mouthful of beer, wishing it were something stronger and hating himself for it. He's looking at the evidence of what perpetually wishing for more than you have can do to a person in the man at the head of the table, and he vows then and there to never, ever, allow himself to turn into anything resembling the man his Father is.

He turns to look at Liv, seeking what he's not sure. She's across the table and one seat to the left, next to Gerry and opposite Karen. They're playfully arguing about something, Liv's leaning in conspiratorially and Gerry's giggling again finally, and watching the woman he loves bond with his son he feels a rush of warmth in his chest and he realises he's going to love this incredible, beautiful, smart woman for the rest of his life.

Gerry says something to her, and she nods, picking up one of the jugs of water in the middle of the table and refilling his glass before handing it to him. She leans forward to put the jug back down, and their eyes meet across the table; the way he's looking at her stuns her for a moment, steals her breath.

"We're in public, look away." She murmurs, quiet and subtle as she picks up her glass of red wine.

"Not a chance." He replies easily and just as subtly as he reaches for the bread rolls.

* * *

He'd only left the guesthouse (and he uses that term loosely since it's technically just a regular three bedroom house) to check if he'd left his phone in the living room in the main house. He found it exactly where he knew he left it, and had been on his way out when he'd run into his Father.

They stare at each other for a moment, both burdened with a lifetime's worth of playing happy families in public and war games behind closed doors, and honestly, Fitz just doesn't have the energy to do either right now.

"Night." He tells his Father shortly, walking past him in the door way before he gets sucked into a conversation he wants no part of.

"Fitzgerald." His Father calls to his retreating back, and he stops when he hears the clinking of glass on glass, and the sound of liquid being poured. "Have a drink with me."

Fitz turns around with the intention of telling him to go to hell after what he said earlier in front of the kids, but his Father holds out one of the generous measures of Scotch in his direction, and just like always, he folds. He mutely walks back into the room and takes the glass.

"So." His Father says, fixing him with a vaguely patronising _I know all your secrets_ expression, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh, killer?"

"I beg your pardon?" Fitz replies, knowing already that he should've just kept walking. Jerry is well on his way to drunk, and looking for an argument.

"Preaching at me about the importance of fidelity is easy enough until you meet someone who makes you realise monogamy is a pipe dream at best." Jerry smirks knowingly, and Fitz narrows his eyes.

"I don't know what you're-"

"Oh, please, Fitzgerald, don't think I didn't see the way you were looking at that n-"

"Be very, _very_, careful about how you finish that sentence." Fitz says warningly, thinking that if his Father _dares_ even go there, he's going to find himself drinking all his meals through a bendy straw for the foreseeable future.

They stare each other down for a second, and Big Jerry breaks first, though he hides it by turning away and saying, "So you think you're in love, huh?"

Fitz doesn't say anything.

"I can't say I blame you, son, she's the kind of little thing I'd tie up like a pretzel given half the opportunity, but you're not in love with her."

Still, he remains quiet, and his lack of response - especially an argumentative one - has Jerry turning back around and fixing him with a glare, "You do know that, don't you? Because if you don't - if you think she's spreading her legs for anything other than her fifteen minutes and a book deal - you're even stupider than I thought you were."

"Don't you _dare_-_"_

"You're pathetic!" Jerry crows as if in victory, "I always said you'd never amount to much, but I really didn't think you were dumb enough to fall for an even dumber slut who fancies herself a political game player. God, if you really are involved with her I'm not sure who it says worse about - you or her! I mean, it makes her a fucking idiot for thinking you're worth the time and it makes you just as bad for thinking she actually has real feelings for someone like you!"

"I don't need this," Fitz mutters, setting down his untouched glass and turning to leave, "and I definitely don't need you." They'll leave right now - he'll go to Liv and tell her he's had enough, and-

"Fact is, son, you're trotting me out in front of the press again because we both know you can't win it without me." Jerry shrugs, polishing off yet another scotch, "So, yes, actually, you _do_ need me."

"What did I do?" Fitz asks without being able to stop himself as he turns back around to face the man who's made his life a misery, "I'm your son, your only child, what on Earth did I ever do to make you hate me this much?"

"I don't hate you, Fitzgerald," Jerry says bitterly, "I just… recognise your limitations."

"My- my _limitations_? Dad, I'm running for President, what more do you want from me?" He feels like the person he was in his early twenties, when he'd just come home from his first combat mission with the Navy, expecting nothing positive from his Father, but being unable to stop himself from hoping it might be a moment for them - your only son comes back from risking his life fighting for his country thousands of miles from home, you've got to have _something_ good to say about that, right?

"I know you are, and I'd almost be proud if I thought you had a chance in hell of winning." It feels like all the air has gone out of the room, and they stare at each other silently for a second, neither one knowing what to say.

Jerry shakes his head and turns his back on Fitz to pours himself another scotch, and it hits Fitz like a ton of bricks - no matter what he does with his life, no matter who he is or what he manages to do for the world, he's never going to be good enough to appease his father, let alone to make him happy - or god forbid, proud.

He could get elected to the highest office in the land and be the greatest President the country has ever had and it wouldn't be good enough because he didn't win by a large enough margin, or because the bills he passed and changes he made didn't line up perfectly with the way his father views the world. He could be a great partner to Liv, make her happy and build an amazing, lasting relationship with her and it wouldn't be good enough because he couldn't keep his mouth shut and his head down and make things work with Mellie. He could be the best father he could be, and raise his children to be happy, healthy, well adjusted adults and it wouldn't be good enough because he's chosen to nurture his children and keep them close rather than throw them to the wolves for a life of perpetual ferberization.

He takes a deep breath and lets it rush out of his lungs, refusing to allow his father to see him giving up, and without another word he turns on his heel and walks out of the living room, slamming the door behind him and heading for the guest house, needing Liv so much in that moment he finds he's not even surprised his Father picked up on something between them.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: So originally, the weekend with Big Jerry was supposed to be taken care of within the space of a chapter, but Karen and Gerry are just so gosh darn cute that it's wound up being a little longer. Excuse the patchy updates, I've been nailing down some aspects of the story and making sure I didn't write myself into any plot hole type situations.**

**(I also may or may not also have been accosted by a plot bunny or two for another couple of Olitz-centric fics recently, but I promise not to abandon this one, it will definitely get finished!)**

* * *

"Liv?" The small voice coming from halfway up the stairs makes her jump with surprise. She's curled up on the L-shaped couch, in the corner, watching the news whilst she waits for Fitz to come back from looking for his phone - though he's been gone for twenty minutes now, so she's pretty sure he must have run into his Father, which never means anything good. Honestly, she's starting to get a little worried.

"Karen?" She says, taking in the way the little girl clings to a blue teddy bear with one hand and the oak staircase banister with the other. Her feet are pointed inwards and her eyes are full of tears. "Are you okay, sweetie?" She says, standing up and rounding the couch, but stopping at the bottom of the stairs. She doesn't want to spook her by coming too close - she's still a relative stranger to the girl after all.

"I had a bad dream." Karen mumbles, then she starts to cry, "Where's my Daddy?"

"He's just in the main house, he'll be back soon." Liv says sympathetically, taking a step closer - which is apparently all the invitation Karen needs to fall into Liv's arms like a ragdoll. "Woah- hey, it's okay. It was just a dream, sweetheart, it wasn't real." She scoops the little girl up and lets her cling, rocking her slowly back and forth to try and help her calm down. "Shhh, it's okay, you're safe."

Karen sniffles and turns her face into Liv's neck. "Grandpa was a c-clown." She hiccups, "And- and he kept yelling at Daddy and Ger, like at dinner, then there was lots of Grandpa-clowns and they kept takin' p-pictures of me."

Liv thinks back to the mass-chaos that follows her family wherever they go, and holds her a little tighter, nervous to even go near the 'grandpa yelling' issue without go ahead from Fitz - she's still very, very new to the little girl in her arms, and she doesn't want to overstep her bounds before they even have a chance to figure out where they are.

"Your Daddy is dealing with your Grandpa over what happened at dinner." Liv tells her, "Me, you and your brother are the only people in the house, so no one is going to take pictures of you." She assures her, "And there's no clowns here."

"What if there is?" Karen whispers, and Liv puts her gift for thinking on her feet in a crisis to good use.

She turns around and goes back down the steps she'd walked up to get to Karen, keeping a hold of her but shifting her to the side to rest on her hip.

"Well," She says, "There's no clowns in the living room." Karen peeks out from Liv's arms to check she's telling the truth, then hides her face again. Liv steps round the corner and opens the bathroom door, making sure she has Karen securely in her arms before she uses one hand to flick on the light. "No clowns in here either." Liv tells her, and again, Karen checks and then hides again. She switches the light off and closes the door gently, rounding the bottom of the stairs to step into the kitchen, switching the light on, "Kitchen's clear too." She says, and Karen checks, and then rests her head on Liv's shoulder instead of hiding her face. Again, Liv turns out the light and pulls the door closed behind them before carefully making her way up the stairs. As quietly as she can, she opens the door to Gerry's room and let's Karen peak in.

"No clowns." The little girl whispers.

"No clowns." Liv agrees, stepping out of the doorway and shutting the door just as quietly as she'd opened it. She walks past the door to Karen's room and into the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. The room is empty, of course, and Liv feels Karen nod silently against her shoulder. She turns the light out and heads back into Karen's room, setting her gently down on the double bed. It's a standard if minimalistic guest room, designed for an adult not a child, so the bed swamps her, making her look even smaller than usual.

Once she's settled under the duvet, her teddy bear tucked beneath her chin, Liv strokes her hand over Karen's hair. "All better?" she asks.

"Can- can you check under the bed?" Karen whispers, and Liv smiles softly.

"Of course." She says, shifting from where she's perched on the side of the bed to kneel on the floor, performing the standard post-nightmare ritual for any parent, guardian or baby sitter anywhere.

"All clear." Liv promises, going back to stroking her hair. She remembers her Mother doing the same to her when she was small; when she was upset, or couldn't sleep, or she'd had a nightmare, like Karen. Liv's heart breaks for the way Karen leans into the contact - she herself may have done the majority of her growing up in elite boarding schools, but Karen was _four_ when she was sent away. The only time the poor girl received much attention - or affection - would have been when she came home for the holidays. She feels something solidify in her chest at the thought; if she and Fitz are really going to go the distance the way it feels they are, he's a package deal. She's gotten good at taking care of Fitz - hopefully at least half as well as he takes care of her - and though it's going to be an adjustment, she wants to learn to take care of his children too. She wants to protect them, and make sure they never feel abandoned and afraid the way that she so often had when she was growing up.

* * *

Fitz steps into the house, breathing like he's run a marathon. He wants to slam doors, punch walls, break things, he wants- he wants to be able to look in the mirror without wanting to smash it to pieces with his bare hands because, as everyone was always so fond of telling him when he was growing up, he has his Father's eyes.

He locks the door behind himself, and sets the downstairs house alarm hoping everyone's asleep. He doesn't want his kids to see him this aggravated - especially not when he feels this close to falling apart. He just wants to crawl into bed with Livvie and not talk about it. Not _ever_ have to talk about it.

He trudges up the stairs, checking in on Gerry and Karen on his way to the master bedroom. They're both fast asleep; Gerry neatly tucked under the duvet, whilst in her room Karen has kicked half the bed sheets off and tangled herself up in what's left at the tail of the bed.

He gently picks her up and moves her back up to the middle of the bed so she doesn't roll onto the floor, and she blinks awake as he's settling the sheets back over her.

"Daddy!" She says happily when she realises what's going on. She leans up to throw her arms around him, and he holds her close, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as he lays her back down.

"I'm home now, sweetheart, you can go back to sleep." He tells her, carefully stroking her hair.

"M'kay." She says, wriggling around until she's comfortable, but seeing the look on his face says, "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"I'm better now I'm with you." He tells her, knowing he can't keep doing this - he can't keeping giving his Father access to his kids, at least, not whilst they're too young to understand what kind of a person he really is. It hurts him to think about cutting contact with the man, no matter what else he's done, they're family, and Fitz had always held out hope that they'd at least manage to reach a truce one day.

"Does Grandpa make you sad?" Karen asks out of the blue, and Fitz opens and closes his mouth soundlessly for a moment.

"What makes you ask that?" He says, concerned that she must have overheard more of their argument at the dinner table tonight than he'd thought.

"'Cause you looked sad when Grandpa was being mean to you and Ger." She tells him matter of factly, and his heart sinks a little in his chest.

"Yeah, princess. He makes me sad sometimes." He tells her, trying to figure out how to have a conversation about this kind of thing with a five year old, in a way that won't scare her.

"He made Ger sad, too." Karen says, pausing to yawn, "Which made me sad, but Liv made us feel better."

"She did?"

Karen nods, "I like Liv." She mumbles, already falling back to sleep, "I want her to stay forever."

"Me too." He agrees, but she's already asleep. He smiles and leans down to kiss her forehead, before standing up and quietly leave her room. It makes him smile to see both his kids looking so peaceful, and it occurs to him as he carefully pulls the doors to their rooms closed and heads for his own room, that Liv must have put them to bed when she realised it was getting late. He wonders what she said to make them feel better.

He can see the light under the door, and knows before he opens it that she's going to be awake - and Liv is one of the few people who knows him well enough to be able to pick up on how he's feeling without him saying a word.

He steps inside and shuts the door, leaning against it and not letting go of the handle. She looks up when he comes in, and just like he knew she would, immediately picks up on the pain in his expression.

She locks the iPad in her hands and sets it down on the bedside cabinet, rising to her feet. "You don't want to talk about it." She guesses, her voice neutral.

"Every time I-" He cuts himself off, feeling ridiculous and far more vulnerable than he's used to being when it comes to his issues with his Father, "_Every time_ I come here, no matter how hard I try, a part of me always believes he'll be different."

"We always do." Liv says, shaking her head, "We always find ways to make new excuses for our parents, because the idea that they might just be monsters is almost as bad as the idea that some people just aren't meant to be parents."

They've never talked about her parents, her family, because it's a non-starter for her. She point blank refuses to talk about them, and he's never pushed her on it because he's almost as bad, but hearing her speak that way, he knows she's speaking from experience. To know that she might understand... it bolsters him enough to start talking again.

"I hate him, Liv," He confesses, like it's a grievous sin, "And I'm finished with him. This is the last time he's ever going to see me, or my children again, I'm _done_." He's breathing hard, trying to reign in his emotions. His eyes are sad; the perpetually rejected child, but his hands are balled into fists like he's ready to walk back out the door and prove to his Father exactly how wrong he is about his son being weak.

"I shouldn't have made you come back out here." Liv says, shaking her head and feeling the guilt rise. The way things ended between the two of them last time was bad enough, but whatever it is that was said this time was apparently much worse, if his reaction is anything to go by.

"It's not your fault my Father is the way he is." Fitz says bitterly, "He's always been this way, and it only got worse after my Mom passed." He shrugs out of his jacket and loosens his tie and top button before continuing, "He makes me feel like a goddamn child, every time I see him… it's like I'm six years old and begging him not to reject me again."

Liv isn't sure whether her heart is breaking for the man in front of her, or for the child he was never allowed to be, or both, but she knows she wants to find a way to make sure he never looks this… this beaten down, this _broken, _ever again.

"But he's a national treasure." Fitz sighs, shaking his head and looking anywhere in the room but at her as he bitterly eulogizes his father, "He's a self made man-"

"A four term Senator-"

"And a two term Governor, I know." He interrupts, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"He's a four term Senator and a two term Governor-" she continues, raising her voice over and above and despite his audible protests, "_But he was never President_."

Fitz' mouth snaps closed.

"He never even ran." She reminds him, with a glint in her eye that reminds him that sure, she's his girlfriend, but over and above that she is the formidable Olivia Pope; a brilliant lawyer, genius problem solver and Cyrus' oft proclaimed best student. Sooner or later (sooner, if he has anything to say about it) she's going to be the First Lady, but it's not the role she was born for - she was born for the role he's going to play.

"_You_ are running for President. You? Are going to _be_ the forty fourth President of the United States of America. Not him. You're going to sit in the Oval Office and run the country and the armed forces and…" She shrugs uncaringly, like the next part is an inconvenience, "You'll take his calls if you happen get a minute to get back to him," he can feel a smile curling at the edge of his lips. She steps closer to him, so close that their noses are almost touching, and tells him, "Regardless of what happens in two weeks, he loses. _You win_."

He's on her in a heartbeat, crashing his lips to hers and dragging her closer by her belt loops, "God, I love you." He murmurs, and he feels her lips curve into something between a smile and a smirk against his own before he decides, hey, in for a penny, right? So he moves his hands from her waist over her ass and down to the backs of her thighs, picking her up and grinning when her legs automatically lock around his waist.

"Fitz, we have to- _mm_- we have to be quiet-" She groans as he walks them the handful of paces between the doorway and the bed and lets them both fall onto the soft sheets below.

"It's not my fault you're the loud one, baby." He smirks whilst kissing down the side of her neck and he hears her giggle.

"I'm pretty sure it's _entirely_ your fault." She replies, and for a second the _wantneednow_ rapidly clouding his mind is overtaken by a wash of pure, undiluted affection for the woman in his bed.

He grins rogueishly, and kisses her lips gently, "Don't you forget it." He grins, before returning to his original plan of unbuttoning her cream coloured blouse and kissing a path down her body. They have a rule, a fairly obvious one, given the circumstances of their relationship - no visible marks - _visible_ being the key word here. He's never really been into it before now or with anyone else he's been with, but there's something about seeing his mark on her that he loves.

It's very high school of him, but he can't help it, and he pauses at a sensitive spot near the bottom of her ribs, and sucks a fairly impressive hickey into the skin there that has her hand tightening its grip on the hair at the back of his head and a moan tearing out of her throat.

She claps a hand over her own mouth, and he tugs her wrist back down almost immediately.

"I want to hear you." He tells her, and her eyes widen.

"Fitz, we can't- the kids." She says, and an expression she can't quite describe washes over his face.

"What?" She says self consciously, and he shakes his head, smiling just a little.

"Nothing. Nothing, I just…" He shakes his head like he's not sure what he wants to say, "I just like hearing you say that." He offers eventually.

A shy smile curls her lips in return and she threads her fingers through his hair; the gesture of unguarded affection and genuine care stabilising something in him that had felt untethered since he arrived back at the house he grew up in. After the fight he's just had with his Father, the feeling is just a little too much - he knows without a doubt that he couldn't handle it if she left him - and so he leans closer again, returning to kissing the exposed skin over her ribs and her stomach. He gently runs his fingertips, feather light, over the skin right above her waistband, before returning his lips to the bruise he'd sucked into her skin at the bottom of her ribs.

She gasps at the mix of sensations; the gentleness of his hands, the fierceness of his lips, and her hand tightens a little in his hair.

"Don't tease." She murmurs, knowing he's going to anyway. He loves to tease her, to work her body until she can barely catch her breath between moans to beg him to get her off.

He undoes her dark gray trousers with one hand, and pulls them off her completely with the other before settling between her legs and pressing a combination of light, breathy kisses and sloppy bites against the inside of her thighs.

"Mmm."She breathes, her back arching as he runs his thumb over the seam of her underwear before removing those too.

He pulls her legs over his shoulders, and she buries her hands in his hair as he buries his face in her.

She can't breathe, can't be quiet, and she's vaguely aware that if she _doesn't_ quieten down, they're going to wake someone up- when her phone starts buzzing on the night stand.

She reaches for it, to reject the call, and almost laughs when she sees the caller ID.

"It's Cyrus." She tells him, trying to keep her voice even enough that he'll pay attention, but he doesn't stop, "Something imp-_o-_rtant could have h-ha-_ah_-ppened-"

"Mmm, we couldn't have that now could we." He murmurs like he's deep in thought, before he grins, wearing an expression she can only describe as devious.

"Answer it." He says, looking up at her and pressing a kiss to the skin where her waistband would be.

"I'm not going to answer the phone to the guy who taught me in college - and who we have to face at some point in the near future - whilst you're going down on me!" She protests, and he slides up her body, leaning in close enough that she can almost taste herself on his lips when he talks.

"I dare you." He murmurs, and she lets her eyes slam shut.

She bites her lips together and holds her breath for a couple seconds to calm herself down, then, before she can change her mind and recognise that this is a bad idea of biblical proportions, puts the phone to her ear and pushes the green button.

"Cyrus." She greets, and Fitz grins in triumph and moves back down her body.

"Evening, Liv." He replies, sounding weary.

"Everything okay?" She asks, deciding that the minimum amount of words possible is almost certainly her best (and only) choice of action here.

"This whole thing with Fitz' father is driving me crazy - I mean, no one's saying he has to like the guy, but can't he at least make nice with him for a weekend?" He asks rhetorically, and good lord, talking about Fitz' father is like… number three on her list of 'things not to talk or think about when we're having sex'.

"It's not going to ha-_ah_-ppen." She tells him, going for stern and missing it by roughly a square mile when his fingers join his tongue on the mission of driving her completely insane.

"I know." He replies obliviously, "So I was thinking we could just leak a few pictures from the dinner, and have one of the wait staff say something to a reporter about how everyone played happy families like the good boys the world believes they are."

"Then it would be problem solved and Bi-_unh -_Big Jerry goes away and e-everyone's happy." She deduces, trying to keep her brain in gear enough to have this conversation right now.

"_Don't_. Say his name. While _I'm_ getting you off." Fitz instructs darkly, voice pitched low so as not to alert Cyrus to his presence, while rocking his fingers deeper into her with each word. Her back arches off of the mattress and all her muscles lock up, and she tilts the phone away from her mouth for a moment, her breath rushing through her chest as he holds her at the edge of oblivion, without letting her fall off the cliff.

"Exactly," Cyrus continues, unbelievably still not suspicious, "After this we shouldn't need to tap into his hithero untouched political capital for a while - if at all, based on the number predictions I'm looking at right now."

"Oh, that's perfect." Olivia gasps, clutching the phone just a little tighter, knowing Fitz is going to drag this out and tease her until she's losing her mind after what she's just said.

"I knew you'd think so." Cyrus agrees in her ear, "He loves all that down home baby kissing crap and the sooner we get rid of Jerry the sooner we can get back to that, so he'll eat this right up - which means so will the voters."

"_Yes_." She breathes, amazed that they know each other so well.

"Liv, we all know that if there's one thing the voters can tell it's when a candidate isn't being genuine." Cyrus continues, and she fights to keep her breathing normal.

"You're- _right there_." She replies, her head falling back to hit the pillows as she tries to figure out how to wrap up this conversation as fast as possible - because her poker face is good, but she's pretty sure that even she won't be able to hide it if Fitz decides to make her come whilst she's still on the phone.

"Speaking of which, we need to be extra prepared for smarmy Langston and her bible thumpers. We're headed to Tennessee next, and we all know what that means."

"_Oh, God."_ She groans, and she hears him _mhmm_ sympathetically, while Fitz laughs softly and redoubles his efforts.

"Exactly. Thinly veiled _you're all going to hell_ comments for everyone." He replies, "He'll have to be right on top of his game."

"Oh, he is." She answers breathlessly, her hand tightening in his hair, "She won't know what's hit her."

"That's the spirit!" Cyrus agrees, "Anyway. It's late, we should both get some rest. We still on for the breakfast meeting Monday?"

She agrees, and hangs up the phone just in time for Fitz to do that thing with his tongue that makes her see stars, and she's dragging a pillow over her face as she screams his name and shatters into a million pieces.

He laughs quietly, his breath tickling the inside of her thigh as she comes down.

"Impressive." He says, as she drops the pillow back onto the bed beside them both, "I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist."

"Go screw yourself." Olivia offers, rolling her eyes and unable to believe she'd actually just let him do that when one wrong move would have had Cyrus know exactly what they were doing.

"I'd much rather screw you." He tells her, smirking as he crawls up her body, rolling onto his back and dragging her on top of him as he pulls her down for a kiss.


End file.
